Thirteen
by Ludub
Summary: Kyle and Tamara are married in the present day and expecting a baby, but events of Kyle's past are about to catch up with him. Shaken to his very core, and making him question everything about himself, can his wife and family help him through it? Warnings: Violence, language, sexual abuse
1. Chapter 1

THIRTEEN

 **CHAPTER 1**

i.

 _Thirteen years ago…_

" _Okay slugger!" said David, nodding at the small boy who was huddled on his couch,"_ Why don't you come with me and I'll show you to your room?"

 _He picked the boy's shabby backpack up off the floor, throwing it over his shoulder, and gestured with his head for him to follow him. The boy continued to stare at his own shoes, refusing to make eye contact, but he got to his feet obediently and followed behind the older man._

 _Jenny watched her husband usher the young boy out of the room, leading him down the hallway, and into the room they'd made up for him. She turned and smiled in a slightly nervous way at Miss Blenheim, the social worker, as she sat on her own hands to try to hide how anxious she was. She just wished that David would hurry back soon. He was better at this stuff than her. This was going to be their first time fostering a child, and she didn't want to do or say anything that might make the social worker think that she was out of her depth, or that she wouldn't be able to cope. She was scared and excited at the same time._

 _They had both wanted so much to have children, but life just hadn't worked out that way for them. Their attempts at adoption had fallen through as well, so fostering had seemed like an easier way for them to get to be parents, even if it was only for a short time. It wasn't ideal and they both knew that, but they were going to do everything in their power to make this work, and to create a family atmosphere in the house as best they could. They would both have preferred a much younger child, especially as they had no experience of dealing with teenagers, but this opportunity had come up unexpectedly and they'd decided to give it a go. How bad could it be? She had to admit it though, she was nervous about having a thirteen-year-old in the house and wasn't really sure where to begin._

 _David walked back into the living-room and sat back down beside his wife, taking hold of her proffered hand, and giving the social worker as relaxed a smile as he could manage._

 _"He's a quiet one, isn't he?" he said, looking a little concerned. "Haven't heard a peep out of him."_

 _Miss Blenheim nodded a little solemnly and clasped her hands together on her knee._

 _"Kyle hasn't had an easy few years" she said, with a heavy sigh._

 _She looked back and forth between the faces of this eager looking couple. She thought they looked like kind people and all initial interviews had seemed very positive. She'd been reassured by the fact that they hadn't been put off when they'd been told that Kyle had behavioural problems and a very troubled past. Normally the newbie foster parents just wanted cutesy toddlers and babies, and many of them ran for the hills as soon as they found out that the children were older and that they might have issues. Looking at this couple in front of her now, she just hoped that she might actually have found somewhere for Kyle that might be a little more permanent, and people who might be more willing to try to help him. He needed some stability more than anything._

 _She gave them an apologetic smile before continuing._

 _"To be honest with you Mr and Mrs Summers" she said, "I haven't been working on Kyle's case file for very long. I've only had him for the last couple of months and… well… there are a lot of missing details… big gaps in his file… so I don't actually have a full case history for him."_

 _She lifted her cup of coffee off the table and took a small sip, before placing it gently back on the table in front of her. She could see that the Summers were listening eagerly and patiently waiting for her to continue._

 _"What I can tell you is that Kyle's father is in prison, and his mother passed away a little over two years ago when he was eleven. She was an alcoholic and she had a number of abusive partners…I've been told that there was a lot of domestic violence in the home. Kyle hadn't been attending school for quite some time when she died… He'd just fallen through the net. From the time of his mother's death, until quite recently he was quite settled in a foster home just outside the city, but his case notes from that time seem to have gone missing. He was removed a few months ago, and he's been bouncing around the system since then, from one placement to another. No-one's quite sure how to deal with him because of his silence."_

 _She could see that Jenny was looking significantly more nervous now and holding her husband's hand that little bit tighter, but she'd found that it was better to put the parents fully in the picture, and not to sugar coat things too much. They'd find out the truth at some stage, and it was better that she hadn't told too many lies at the outset. Forewarned was forearmed, and all that…_

 _"He's not talking at the moment." she sighed, "I haven't ever heard him talk and I've been dealing with him for nearly three months… He's been checked over by various doctors… Child psychologists... It's not autism or anything like that... They think he's suffered some sort of trauma and this is what they call 'selective mutism'. They think he_ _ **can**_ _talk, but that he just doesn't want to. It's his way of taking back some control over his life."_

 _David cleared his throat, glancing at his wife's worried face, and asked Miss Blenheim in a concerned tone, "Do you know what happened to him? I mean the trauma they're talking about… Was it his mum dying? Or do they mean that something happened while he's been in care?"_

" _We're not sure. It's difficult to say… I've been told that he wasn't always mute… that he was talking until quite recently but then he stopped... but as I said, I've never heard him"._

 _She was frustrated that she didn't have the information to be able to give them, and sad that she'd never been able to get Kyle to speak to her. He wouldn't even look at her, never mind confide in her what was bothering him. He seemed such a fragile child, so small and quiet for a boy of thirteen, that it was hard not to feel sorry for him. She looked at their anxious faces._

 _"Are you sure you can cope with this?" she asked, "It's probably a bit more than you'd bargained for, especially as first time foster parents..."_

 _Jenny thought about the boy that had walked through their door twenty minutes earlier and felt a surge of motherly love towards him, especially now that she knew what a tough time he'd had. He'd just looked so small and so vulnerable._

 _When they'd been told that they were getting a thirteen-year-old boy she'd been frightened that he'd turn out to be more of a man than a boy, and that they'd be trying to deal with a rebellious teen right from the get go. Kyle had looked more like a child than she'd been expecting. He was small for his age, and scruffy in an uncared for way, with cheap second hand clothes that were too big for him, and he was painfully shy to the point where he'd barely looked up from his shoes for even a moment. Knowing now that he was mute as well, made her want to take him in her arms and keep him safe. He was clearly greatly in need of some motherly affection. She just hoped that she was going to be up to the job. The last thing that that little boy needed was more rejection._

 _She turned to look at her husband and began to nod as though she was trying to convince herself more than him._

 _"I'm willing to try if you are." she said, smiling a little nervously, "That poor boy just looks so lost."_

 _She_ _turned to face the social worker and gave her a decisive nod._

 _"You'd never imagine that he was thirteen either" she said, "He looks about ten! He could do with some feeding up"_

 _David nodded in agreement and squeezed his wife's hand._

 _When he'd left Kyle sitting on the bed in his new room, he'd thought how frightened and lost he looked, staring at his feet in that defeated and broken way. The boy had just followed him there like a lamb to the slaughter, and sat down on the bed when he was told. He was as obedient as a well-trained puppy. It had nearly broken his heart to look at him. He wanted to be able to help him more than anything._

 _"I think Kyle needs somewhere to call home" he said, smiling sincerely, "...and people to look out for him. We'll do our best for him."_

 **ii.**

Present day…

Kyle set the last glass in place on the large group table, getting ready for the hen party that was soon to arrive, and looked up at the doorway of the restaurant. He caught sight of Tamara as she waddled towards him and couldn't help but smile. She was only a few weeks away from her due date but her belly was so big now that she looked like she could pop at any moment. She had that funny walk that heavily pregnant women get, which he thought was adorable especially because Tamara was so small, but he knew that she hated it and that she was incredibly uncomfortable. He headed over to the door to meet her, smiling from ear to ear, and with eyes shining like stars.

"You're supposed to be resting!" he said, putting his arms around her waist as best he could and leaning in for a kiss. "Am I gonna have to drive you home and get one of the girls to keep you under house arrest?!"

He said it in a teasing tone but the concern in his eyes gave him away.

"Kyle! I can't stay in the house forever!" she whined. "I feel like I'm going mad… Besides, I want pizza… and lots of it… and ice cream… I want ice cream!"

He laughed, looking at her hot and bothered little face staring up at him with big brown eyes, and sighed, "Alright… but then I'm getting someone to take you home. You know what the doctors have said… You're supposed to be on bed rest!"

He led her over to one of the tables and helped to lower her into the seat. She was having problems with her back and her blood pressure was higher than it should be. He was worried about her. He gave her a wink and went off to place the order for her favourite pizza before returning a moment later with a selection of ice cream. He knew that she'd want it first so he'd just gone and scooped it himself. Chocolate, Cookies and Cream, and Pistachio, always the same selection. She was never very predictable in her moods but he always knew exactly what she wanted to eat. He slid into the booth beside her and stuck a spare spoon in her bowl of ice cream to take a spoon for himself.

"Heyyyy!" she said, pulling the bowl away from him in an exaggerated and comical way. "You wouldn't eat your other customers' ice cream like that, would you?!"

"My other 'customers' pay for their food" he said, laughing as he dabbed some of the ice cream from his spoon onto the end of her nose.

She wiped it away, and grinned at him, before stuffing a massive spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.

"What's the point in marrying the owner of a restaurant if you can't scab some free food?!" she teased, speaking with her mouth full of ice cream, and deliberately trying to gross him out. "You know I only married you for the pizza?! Right?!"

He leaned across and started tickling her around her pregnant belly, and she squealed, pretending to try to get away.

"Stop Kyle!" she giggled, squirming as he tickled her, "Stop, you'll make me pee!"

He leaned in with a huge smile and kissed her instead, feeling the icy coldness of the ice cream on her lips.

"I love you, Mrs Braxton" he said, and then he leant down and planted a kiss on her baby bump. Pressing his ear against her tummy he said, "Hello in there! Are you listening? It's your daddy out here and I can't wait to meet you!"

Tamara looked down at her husband and smiled at him in a bemused kind of way. He'd really surprised her over the last few months. She'd always known that he wanted a family, and she was sure that he was going to be a good dad, but it was like all his Christmases had come at once when she'd told him that she was pregnant. He hadn't stopped smiling ever since. He was absolutely over the moon, and for someone who'd always tried to maintain a 'tough guy' persona, he certainly didn't mind acting like a soppy fool when it came to the baby. He'd tell anyone that would listen.

Here he was, kissing her tummy and talking to his unborn baby, in full view of the restaurant and all of his staff. He just didn't care who saw. She'd always known that he had a softer, more sensitive side, but it had really come to the fore with all this baby stuff. He was barely recognisable. She wondered what he'd be like when the baby finally got here.

One of the other waiters brought the pizza over and slid it onto the table in front of Tamara and Kyle, raising his eyebrows a little when he saw that Kyle still had his head pressed against her belly, and that he was singing softly with his eyes closed. She smiled at the waiter and rolled her eyes a little. She was embarrassed, even if he wasn't!

"Babe, I need to eat my pizza" she said, wriggling a little so she could reach the table, "Can you give the bub a little peace and quiet?"

He sat up again with a big dopey smile on his face.

"I made sure there were no onions" he grinned.

He stole a slice of her pizza and took a huge bite, smiling at her again with his mouth full.

"I'm gonna call Pheebs to take you home after you finish..." he said, "...and I want you curled up in bed when I get home or I'm telling Nate on you!"

iii.

Phoebe hung up the phone and rolled her eyes at Ash.

"That was Kyle" she said, sitting up and handing the bowl of popcorn to him, "He needs me to go get Tamara and frogmarch her home to bed. She's not taking this whole bedrest thing seriously."

"Why can't he take her home?" said Ash, looking a little annoyed. "The movie's only started!"

"Uggghhh" she moaned, standing up from the couch and smoothing down her clothes. "Cos they have a hen party in tonight and the place is going to be jammed in about half an hour. Someone else called in sick so they're understaffed… blah blah blah… long story short, he needs Super Pheebs to come to the rescue."

She peered at her reflection in the mirror on the wall by the door, and wiped away the black eyeliner under her eyes that was giving her a racoon look. Then she turned to face him with her head tilted apologetically.

"We'll watch it when I get back, okay?" she offered, "I'll only be about half an hour."

He shook his head, rolling his eyes and sighed loudly. She smiled at him and blew him a kiss as she skipped out to the hallway.

"Okay…" he shouted after her as he heard her leaving, "...but I'm eating all the popcorn!"

He pressed stop on the remote control, and began flicking through the channels to waste time until she came back. He picked up his beer and took a swig, thinking how inconsiderate Kyle was sometimes, and wondering why Phoebe always felt the need to help him out. He wondered if somewhere, deep down, she still had feelings for Kyle.

Ash continued to flick through the channels, wondering how long she was going to be and if they were really going to get to watch the movie at all tonight. He knew that Phoebe was a talker, and could almost see her now, plonking herself down on Tamara's couch to eat ice cream with her. God knows how long she'd be! He tutted loudly as he flicked from one rubbish TV show to the next.

"Say Yes To The Dress?" he huffed, flicking on to the next channel, "No thank you!".

He got excited for a second when he thought that Game Of Thrones was coming on, but quickly realised it was just a commercial for the new series. Flicking onto the news, he watched as aerial shots of a house in Melbourne were shown, but he'd just caught the tail end of the news story so he didn't know what had happened. Back to the studio, the newsreader was looking very serious.

" _Police are appealing for information. Some twenty children are thought to have been fostered by Simon and Jessica Hames since 1999. If you or someone you know lived in the Hames foster home at any time from 1999 to the present, the police are asking that you get in touch with Melbourne police."_

"Am I interrupting something?" laughed Kat, as she stood in the doorway of the living-room.

She eyed the bowl of popcorn, the 6 pack of beer, the bottle of wine, and the lit tea light candles on the coffee table, and gave him a wry smile.

"Looks like a romantic evening for one?" she asked teasingly. "Should I just leave you to it?"

"Pheebs had to do a favour for Kyle… Pregnant woman trouble apparently" he said, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated way. "She'll be back in a bit." he said, sounding unconvinced. He pulled one of the beers out of the cardboard holder and offered it to Kat. "Join me for one? Till Pheebs gets back?"

She took the bottle from him and slumped down in one of the armchairs with a heavy sigh. It had been a hard day and she was tired. She was grateful to see a friendly face and to have Ash to herself for a moment or two. She always felt at ease in Ash's company but it was never the same with Phoebe around.

"Thanks Ash" she said giving him a tired smile. "I needed this" she said taking a long drink from the bottle.

"Tough day?" he said, looking a little concerned.

He could see that she looked more stressed than normal and he thought that she could probably do with a hug more than anything.

"Wanna talk?" he asked, tilting his head at her sympathetically.

She shook her head and gave him a half-smile.

"Not really… just happy to have a bit of company… What are you watching?!" she asked, glancing at the screen and raising her eyebrows at him in surprise. "Are you watching The Kardashians?!"

"What?! No!" he exclaimed, frantically looking for the remote control. "I was watching the news when you walked in! I wasn't watching this!"

"Yeah right! Wait till I tell Andy and Kyle!" she snorted. "A romantic evening in for one, complete with lit candles and an episode of the Kardashians!"

She was laughing loudly now, enjoying the growing look of embarrassment on Ash's face and how red his face had gone.

"What's become of you Martin Ashford?!" she taunted, "I thought I knew you!"

He began to laugh, and resigned himself to the embarrassment of it all.

"What can I say Kat?!" he laughed, "It's top class entertainment… I've been thinking of getting butt implants like Kim's…"

He stood up with his hands on his hips and stuck his bum out in a camp and ridiculous way.

"I mean" he continued, "What do you think? It could be bigger couldn't it?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 **i.**

Present day…

"Seriously Phoebe! You don't need to babysit me like this!" said Tamara, throwing her bag on the couch and lowering herself carefully into the seat. "Kyle is blowing this completely out of proportion!"

"Um, I don't think so Tam" answered Phoebe, furrowing her brows at her in a disapproving way. "Kyle said the docs have put you on bedrest… you can't take risks with the baby."

She flopped down on the couch beside her and kicked her boots off so she could pull her feet up onto the seat.

"Not after what happened with us" she said with a sad sigh.

Tamara glanced at her friend, sitting on the couch beside her, and suddenly felt a pang of guilt. She wondered how she could have been so stupid and inconsiderate. She'd been so caught up in the excitement and the drama of her own pregnancy, that she hadn't really given much thought to the fact that Phoebe and Kyle had lost their babies. The miscarriage was such a long time ago now, but she could see that Phoebe was still hurting, and she guessed that Kyle must be too.

She could see now why Kyle was so nervous about things, and why he wanted her wrapped up in cotton wool all the time. She thought how frightened he must be, and wondered why he hadn't just said something.

"Sorry Pheebs… I hadn't thought" she said, looking shamefaced and tilting her head apologetically. "I'll do as I'm told from now on."

She lifted her feet onto the coffee table and peered over her bump at how swollen her ankles were.

"I'm so uncomfortable!" she sighed, rubbing her hand in circles on her belly, "I just want this baby out of me now… I'm too big!"

Phoebe looked at her bump and nodded slowly. She had to agree. Tamara was only a little over five feet tall but that baby bump was simply enormous. It looked so out of proportion, it was almost comical.

"Oh, I love the crib!" said Phoebe, glancing across the room at the white baby cot. "It's beautiful Tamara!"

It was all made up and ready for the impending arrival of the newest Braxton, all whites and yellows.

"Kyle built it" said Tamara, smiling from ear to ear proudly. "He's so excited, it's almost embarrassing! Did you know that he sings to the baby?!"

Phoebe giggled and nodded her head. She wasn't surprised.

"I've never seen him look so happy." she said, giving Tamara's tummy a little pat, "I'm so happy for both of you… Really."

Tamara turned to look at Phoebe, furrowing her brow a little.

"Can I ask you something Pheebs?" she asked, sounding a little nervous. "Has Kyle ever told you anything about his childhood?"

Phoebe's smile faded and she suddenly looked a lot more serious.

"Not much." she said, frowning a little. "He's a bit of closed book. I never got much of an answer from him… Not about when he was little anyway. He talked a bit about the foster parents he lived with as a teenager, and about his dad… but he just clams up when you ask him about when he was little." She could see that Tamara was nodding along with a worried expression on her little face. "Won't talk to you either, huh?" she asked with a sympathetic tone.

"No… he just says there's not much to know… or that he can't remember much." she said, looking a little hurt and disappointed. "It's weird being married to someone and knowing so little about them… I didn't really mind before… but now that we're expecting…"

"You want to fill in the blanks?" said Phoebe.

She could understand how frustrating Kyle could be, with all his evasive non-answers, and defensive attitude. He'd never wanted to talk about his childhood and she'd eventually come to accept that it was something that was off limits with Kyle. She didn't know why. She shook her head a little sadly.

"Good luck!" she said, "…I don't think Kyle's ever gonna talk about that."

"It's the only time he's ever gotten really angry with me" said Tamara, "I mean… I guess I was pushing it too much… wouldn't let it go…"

"And he lost it?" nodded Phoebe. Flashes of similar memories flashed through her mind. They'd had a few arguments about it when they'd been an item.

"Yeah… I mean, no… he…" she stammered, looking a little guilty, "…he just got really angry… and… and scared me a little… punched a hole in the wall."

"He didn't… he didn't hit you, did he?!" asked Phoebe.

She didn't think that he'd go that far, but she'd seen flashes of something dark in his eyes before, and just because he'd never hit _her_ , it didn't mean that he couldn't have lost it completely and finally lashed out.

"God, no!" exclaimed Tamara, "Kyle would never hurt me! How could you even think that?!" Her eyes were wide and startled now.

"No… I… I didn't" stammered Phoebe, "I just…"

She could see Tamara looking at her suspiciously now, a shadow of doubt creeping over her. She could tell that she was wondering why she'd asked that.

"Kyle never laid a finger on me" she said, answering a question that had never been asked, but had clearly been left hanging there in the few seconds of awkward silence, "He wouldn't… I know that… C'mon? You know that."

Tamara gave a relieved little shudder and leaned her head on the back of the couch. They sat in silence for a moment or two, before Tamara lifted her head and looked at her again.

"Do you think something really bad happened to him?" she ventured, tearing up a little. She was a bit over-emotional these days so she cried very easily, but the not knowing was getting to her, and she couldn't help being worried about him,"Do you think that's why he doesn't want to talk about it?"

"I don't know" said Phoebe, biting her bottom lip. "Maybe? …But if it did, he's not talking… so we'll never know."

They sat in silence again for a moment, staring at the cot on the other side of the room, and sharing a mutual concern for Kyle.

"Right!" said Phoebe, jumping to her feet, and trying to break the tension. "What can I get you? Tea? Juice? Water? …A gallon of ice cream? …C'mon… you've got a willing slave here! It's a one-time only offer!"

Tamara glanced up gratefully and looked a little embarrassed. "Actually Pheebs… Could you get me the two bags of frozen peas from the top section of the freezer? My feet are killing me!"

Phoebe raised her eyebrows and let out a surprised laugh. "Okaaaay… That has to be one of the weirder requests I've ever heard!" she said, skipping out to the kitchen.

Tamara shouted "I know it's weird but it's the only thing that helps!"

Phoebe pulled out the bags of peas and brought them back with a tea towel, into the living room, and held them out, one in each hand, in a questioning sort of way. Tamara nodded to her to set them on the coffee table, and lifted her feet, levering her shoes off on the edge of the table.

"Aaaah" she sighed, placing her bare feet and ankles on the cold bags of peas. "Kyle teases me about this all the time!" she said, blushing a little with embarrassment. She leant back and closed her eyes, looking thoroughly exhausted, and said "Thanks Pheebs… I really appreciate you looking out for me like this. You're a really good friend."

Phoebe looked at her ex-boyfriend's wife, sitting there all swollen and fit to burst, and she couldn't help but smile at the thought that Kyle was finally going to be a dad. She knew how much he'd always wanted that. In a few weeks there would be a mini Braxton, screaming down this house, and Kyle would be over the moon. She hadn't been able to give him that, and in truth she hadn't really wanted to, but Tamara had given him that one thing that he wanted more than anything else. Phoebe loved Kyle, and it made her happy to think of the joy that being a father would bring to his life. She thought that he deserved a bit of happiness for once.

She could see that Tamara was beginning to fall asleep so she picked up a blanket at the end of the couch and draped it over her and her bump. She took out her phone and texted Kyle.

 _"Package delivered. Ten little tootsies chilling on ice! [smiley face_ ]"

 **ii.**

 _13 years ago…_

" _Nooooo! I'll be good! I'll be good!" screamed Kyle, "Please, no! I'll be good!"_

 _David woke with a start at the loud shouts coming from Kyle's room, and shot into a sitting position, reaching for the bedside lamp. Jenny sat up too, with her heart thumping in her chest, and looked at her husband in fear. They could hear him shouting from his bedroom down the hall. David jumped out of bed and ran out to the hallway and down the hall to Kyle's room. He hesitated at the door, worried about what he would find inside, and unsure of how he would deal with it. He was feeling a little out of his depth and this was only the first night._

" _Nooooo!" Kyle cried again, from beyond the door._

 _David took a deep breath and threw the door open. The bed was empty and unslept in! There was no sign of Kyle! He raced into the room, wide-eyed in fear and looked all around the room. He threw himself to his knees and peered under the bed, but he wasn't there either!_

 _Jenny was standing in the doorway now, with her hand held against her chest, aware of how fast her own heart was beating._

 _"Where is he?!" she asked, with her eyes darting around the room wildly._

 _How could he just have disappeared?_

"Stop! _…No! It hurts!" came a little whimper._

 _They both looked at the closet on the far side of the room._ _Kyle was inside!_

 _David got up, and glanced, with a worried expression, at his wife standing in the doorway of the boy's room. He walked over to the closet and slowly opened the door._

" _Kyle?" said David in a soft but shocked voice._

 _He looked down at the small boy curled up on the floor of the closet. He was clearly having a nightmare and was soaked in sweat. He crouched down beside him and hesitatingly touched him gently on the shoulder._

 _"Kyle, wake up... Wake up, Kyle." he said in as calm a voice as he could manage._

" _Nooooo!" moaned Kyle, "You're hurting me! It hurts…"_

 _David gasped and took his hand away for a moment. He glanced behind him at his wife because he really wasn't sure what to do. The boy was shaking and sobbing now. Jenny nodded at him to try again and hugged her arms around her chest._

 _"Kyle" he said, turning back to him and shaking him by his shoulder a little harder to try to bring him round, "Come on, wake up, little man."_

 _Kyle's eyes shot open, wild-eyed with fear, and he gave a guttural cry of terror, like a wounded animal. He clambered frantically across the floor on his back, away from David at enormous speed, and huddled into the corner of the closet, hugging his arms around his legs to make himself into a small ball. He started rocking back and forth and stared at him warily from behind his knees._

" _It's okay, Kyle… It was just a bad dream" said David, tilting his head at him in sympathy, and trying to keep his voice as low and calming as possible. "I need you to come out here, mate." he said, reaching out his hand to the cowering child. "Can you give me your hand please, Kyle?"_

 _Kyle looked at him with pure terror in his eyes, but he slowly and obediently held out his hand. He was shaking like a leaf. David took his hand, and gently pulled him up onto his feet._

 _"Come on… come and sit on the bed, Kyle?" coaxed David._

 _He led him out of the closet and across the room. He glanced at the small and pitiful child following behind him. He was whimpering softly, with his head hanging low in defeat, and his eyes firmly fixed on his feet. The boy stopped by the bed and glanced up at him, obviously waiting for further instruction._

 _"Come on, now" said David, gently pushing on his shoulders to make him sit down._

 _The boy stuck his hands under him and stared at the floor. David sat down beside him and tentatively tried to put his hand on his shoulder, but he took it away again when he saw how much it had made him flinch. He clearly didn't want to be touched._

" _No-one's going to hurt you, Kyle" said David, leaning down to try to look him in the eye. "It was just a bad dream… You're safe here."_

 _Kyle nodded and hugged his own arms around himself. David looked at the bed that clearly hadn't been slept in and tilted his head at the young boy beside him._

 _"Are you sure you don't want to sleep in this nice comfy bed?" he said, patting the covers, "It has to be more comfortable than the floor of that closet."_

 _Kyle glanced sideways at him, with narrowed eyes, and a look that hinted at the growing anger held deep within. It was the first sign of a bit of spirit; an indicator that he wasn't completely broken._

" _Come on" coaxed David, as he got up to pull back the covers, "Why don't you get in?"_

 _Kyle's eyes flitted up to meet his for a moment, full of accusation and anger, now that he was standing in front of him. Of course, he couldn't see what the boy saw - a man standing there in a pair of boxer shorts asking him to get into the bed. David misread the sudden eye contact and tried to give him a reassuring smile. But something was clearly wrong. In that moment, it looked like the light had suddenly been extinguished behind his eyes, as though he'd given up all hope. The boy just nodded slowly to himself and his whole body seemed to slump._

" _Come on, now" said David, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder again with the intention of guiding him into the bed._

 _To his horror, the boy shrugged his hand away, and then crawled into a kneeling position on the bed. Hands planted on either side of his pillow, to support himself on shaking arms, and his eyes fixed firmly on the bed sheets. His jaw was clenched hard and his whole body was shaking in apprehension._

" _No, Kyle!" gasped David. He glanced in shock and horror at Jenny who was watching from the doorway. "Not that! …Jesus! Never that!" he said, taking a step away from the bed, "I would never…"_

 _Kyle didn't move. He just stayed in position as though he didn't believe him._

" _Kyle?" said Jenny, moving tentatively towards the bed, "Sweetheart… you're safe here."_

 _She reached out and gently lifted his chin to look up at her. His eyes didn't seem to see her though. He just looked empty._

 _"All we want is for you to get into bed, sweetie… just to sleep."_

 _She gently took hold of his shoulders and pushed him over so that he had to lie down. He allowed her to manoeuvre him as though he was a ragdoll and simply stared at the ceiling. She glanced at David, shaking her head in dismay, as she gently pulled the covers up to his chin._

" _That's better, isn't it, Kyle?" she said, brushing his hair gently away from his eyes. "A nice comfy bed…"_

 _Kyle didn't answer her. He just rolled over with his back to her and pulled his knees up towards his chest. A defensive position if there ever was one._

 _David hesitantly approached the bed to stand beside his wife and they gazed down at him in pity. Jenny looked back up at David and wiped with the back of her hand at the tears that had begun to escape her eyes. He put his arm around her shoulder to comfort her. He was just as shocked, and he knew the thought in her head was the same as his; 'How could someone do something like that to a child?!'_

" _We're just down the hall if you need us" said Jenny, as she tried to stroke the boy's hair again. He flinched as soon as her hand made contact, so she hastily withdrew. With that she hugged David instead and buried her face in his chest. This was a lot more than they'd signed on for!_

" _We'll see you in the morning, Kyle" said David, "Try to get some sleep." He leaned over and turned the small nightlight on beside the bed and then led his wife back towards the door, where he switched off the main light at the wall._

" _Night, Kyle" said Jenny, gazing at his back with a worried frown as they closed the door. David grimaced at her out in the hallway and led her back quietly to their bedroom. Once in the door, he sat on the edge of the bed, running his hands through his hair, and blew out a big breath. "Jesus!" he groaned, "I don't know what we've let ourselves in for… God knows what that boy has been through!"_

 **iii.**

Present day…

Kyle smiled as he walked up the driveway to the door of the house. He could see Josh and Evie standing on the porch ahead of him, as Evie hunted in her bag for the keys to the annex. Josh turned to face him and smiled sightlessly in his direction.

"Hey Kyle, how are you travelling?" asked Josh, as Kyle reached them at the door. "How's Tamara doing?"

He couldn't help smiling. The kid had gotten good at identifying people from sound alone. He didn't know how he always knew it was him.

"Ah you know…" he said, "She's stubborn… Had to get Phoebe to bring her home tonight and make her go to bed… Only a few weeks now though!"

Evie opened the door to the annex and set their grocery bags inside the door.

Turning to face Kyle, she said, "I can keep her company tomorrow if you want? I don't have Uni tomorrow so I can make sure she takes it easy if you like… maybe a girly day?"

"Ah yeah, that'd be great Evie! Thanks!" he said, giving her a grateful smile. "I don't really like leaving her on her own at the moment. Not when we're so close to her due date."

He looked down at the box of pizza that he'd brought home.

"Do you guys want some pizza by the way? I just brought it home, rather than throw it out, but me and Tam already ate… so if you _poor students_ want it…?" he teased, giving Evie a wink.

"Uh, yeah!" said Josh. "Evie was going to cook…" he said, with a mischievous smile, "Soooo yeah, cold pizza sounds good to me!"

"Heyyyyy!" said Evie, elbowing Josh in the ribs in a playful way and pretending to be offended. She really wasn't a good cook and they both knew it.

"So, you want it?" asked Kyle, realising in embarrassment that he'd been holding the box out towards Josh when he obviously couldn't see it.

"Yeah, we'll take it!" said Evie, reaching past Josh to take it. She gave him a little smile and then took it quickly to the breakfast bar. "Thanks Kyle!" she shouted back at him as she started to put the groceries away.

Kyle put his hand on Josh's shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.

"How's Uni going?" he asked, amazed at how well Josh was doing with things these days. Only a year and a half since his injury, and here he was, living with his girlfriend, and doing his course at University, and generally getting on with things.

"Yeah, good." said Josh, nodding and smiling. He'd enrolled in an Occupational Therapy course to learn to teach other blind people. "They've been pretty good about getting me some extra support and stuff… they even got me a new laptop… so yeah, I mean, it's only been a couple of weeks but… I guess it's going okay so far."

"Glad to hear that!" said Kyle, genuinely pleased for him that things were going well.

He thought how much harder starting Uni would be as a blind kid, and was impressed at Josh's resilience.

"I'd better get in here and see how Tam is" he said, putting his key in the lock, "See you tomorrow!"

Walking into the living-room, he found Tamara snoring loudly on the couch with her mouth open, and her feet sitting in two packets of melted frozen peas. He looked at the outline of her swollen belly under the blanket, and felt a surge of love that he thought might burst his heart. The realisation that he was only days away from being a father hit him like a tidal wave, and he was so happy that he thought he might cry.

He walked over to his sleeping wife, and put one arm under her legs and the other behind her back, and hoisted her up into his arms. This had become a habit of hers and it certainly wasn't doing his back any favours! He carried her to their bedroom and gently placed her in the bed. She murmured something about carrots, and wriggled onto her side, as he pulled the covers up around her.

He lay down with his head on her tummy and tried to see if he could hear the baby's heartbeat. He let out a big sigh and smiled. This baby was going to be the luckiest child on the planet, he thought to himself. His baby would be loved. They would be protected. And they would never want for anything. He'd make sure that he gave them the stability and the security that he had never had, and he'd kill anyone that ever laid a finger on them. He just couldn't wait to meet him or her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi there everyone! Hope you're enjoying this story? Any feedback would be very much appreciated, good or bad. Let me know what you think.**

 **Chapter 3**

 _13 years ago…_

 _Jenny watched with concern as the boy picked at his food with his fingers, darting small pieces into his mouth, and chewing them down with a nervousness like nothing she'd ever seen before. He sat with his arm on the table cradling his plate as though he thought that someone would take it away from him at any moment or that one of them might lean over and steal some of his food off his plate. Mealtimes were the only time that he looked up from the floor. His eyes would dart around the table, nervously making sure that no-one was coming near him or his food._

 _He didn't seem to know how to use cutlery or he didn't want to. No matter what was served he would use his hands to eat it. She'd stopped serving food that wasn't easily eaten with your fingers. Porridge had been a sight to behold. David had tried to show him how to use his knife and fork, but having David lean around him like that had clearly made him frightened and uncomfortable, and he'd frozen to the spot with the result that he had simply stopped eating. For now, she wasn't so worried about his table manners, she just wanted to fatten him up a bit._

 _She'd been shocked at how thin he was the first time she'd seen him without his shirt on._

 _She wasn't really sure what was normal for a thirteen-year-old boy but she was pretty sure that he was on the skinny side of normal. Very far on the skinny side. She'd been able to see all his ribs, and his pelvic bones were jutting out, so his little tummy was concave. He'd looked such a pitiful sight._

 _There was something about the way he'd gotten undressed too. That had just broken her heart! She'd led him to the bathroom to show him how to use the shower and as soon as they'd entered the small room he'd looked her in the eye for the first time since he'd been there. Only for a moment, but she could have sworn that he'd looked at her with pure hatred then; the way a dog does when you try to give them a bath. It was as though this was the ultimate betrayal and he would never forgive her for it. It was only fleeting though, because as soon as their eyes had met, that look of anger was quickly replaced with fear. He was clearly frightened of her!_

 _"It's okay, Kyle!" she'd said, trying to reassure him, but he'd quickly looked down at the floor again, and begun to get undressed._

 _His hands had been shaking violently as he'd tried to unzip his hoodie. Shaking so badly that he'd been having trouble with the zip. When she'd reached out to try to help him, he'd flinched, and pulled away._

 _"It's okay" she'd said again, when he'd looked up at her in fear._

 _It was as though he'd thought that she'd be angry at him for flinching? For being scared?_

 _"You sure you don't want me to help?" she'd asked him, but he'd simply given up on the zip and pulled the hoodie and the t-shirt over his head._

 _She'd done her best to hide her shock when she'd seen his skinny little torso. He was just so small. So thin!_

 _He'd glanced sideways at her then, out of the corner of his eye, and clenched his teeth, as he'd begun to undo the waist of his jeans. It was an accusing sort of look, and she couldn't help feeling embarrassed. He was only a little boy, and he looked more like a ten-year-old than a boy on the verge of his teenage years, but she'd felt uncomfortable letting him undress in front of her. The way he had done it, as though she'd been forcing him in some way, made her feel like she was some sort of voyeur. She'd had to stop him before he took his jeans off, and left in a hurry, closing the door behind her._

 _Standing in the hallway outside, she wondered what had happened this poor little child that would make him behave this way. All the signs were there, of course, clear as day, but she just didn't want to think about it._

 _He still hadn't spoken to either of them and he'd been there for over a week. The only time the boy had uttered anything was when he was having one of his nightmares. They'd gotten used to the shouts in the middle of the night and it had become something of a routine at this stage. No matter how many times they ushered him back to his bed, they'd always find him huddled on the floor of the closet, screaming his head off. He seemed to feel safer in there, with the door closed, and he sometimes went there during the day when they weren't keeping a watchful eye on him. He'd simply disappear, and they'd find him huddled in the corner of the closet, hugging his knees in the dark._

 _The social worker had said that he had behavioural problems but she certainly hadn't impressed upon them just how severe they were. This was a lot more than they'd bargained for._

 _Jenny and David were both University lecturers, David a photographer, and Jenny a historian. It was the summer holidays so they were off work for the next few months and had thought it would give them time to focus on Kyle and really give him the attention that he needed. They'd been trying everything they could think of to get through to him, but so far nothing seemed to be working._

 _He didn't seem to fare too well with excursions. He'd clearly been frightened by the crowds of people, and hidden behind David at all times, clutching at his hand as though his life depended on it._ _When Jenny had tried to take him clothes shopping he'd hidden under a railing of clothing and she'd had to enlist the help of the security guard to search the store and find him. He'd eventually been found curled in a small ball, rocking back and forth, with his face hidden in his knees._

 _For now, they'd decided to work on building his confidence in the safe confines of the house._

 _David glanced at his wife across the dinner table and gave her a worried smile. They both felt thoroughly out of their depth but the thought of just handing Kyle back to Miss Blenheim and being done with him seemed like a truly terrible thing to do._

 _It was clear now that something deeply traumatic had happened to this poor child, and they could only guess what that was. In any case, it seemed likely that the adults in Kyle's life had betrayed him in the worst way possible, and that he had never been able to trust any of them not to hurt him. The fear in Kyle's eyes any time they touched him was information enough._

 _David wanted to help him see that there were good people in this world. People who would care for him and be there for him. He and his wife were more determined than ever that they were going to give Kyle a loving and stable home, and keep him safe from any more hurt. Surely with time, and a lot of love, he would come round? More than anything, he wanted to know what the real Kyle was like. Who was this little boy under all that fear and silence?_

 _As he sat looking at this child, huddled over his plate of food, with his shaggy unkempt hair and his incredibly sad brown eyes, a thought slowly began to creep in. He wondered if music might be a way to get through to him. He knew that there were art and music therapists who worked with severely traumatised children, giving them other ways to express themselves. He'd had a lengthy discussion with one of the other lecturers at the university one day, probably a few years ago, but he'd talked about the healing power of music. He'd said that even the most shut down children had sometimes been drawn out of themselves by music and art. David wasn't one for painting and drawing, but he did play a guitar, and had even been in a band in his younger years._

 _The more he thought about it, the more he thought it might be worth a try._

 _He watched Kyle finish eating and leaned down to try to make eye contact with him._

 _"Why don't you come with me, Kyle?" he said, standing up and offering him his hand._

 _Kyle took his hand obediently, as he always did, and got up from the chair to follow him. They walked out to the living-room and David nodded for Kyle to sit down on the couch. He went to the far side of the room and opened the cupboard, lifting out his dusty old guitar. He plonked himself down beside Kyle and began to strum the guitar, picking at the strings, and tightening and loosening the pegs to tune it. He glanced at Kyle and smiled as he realised that Kyle was watching what he was doing with interest. The guitar still sounded good, after years of being shoved in that cupboard, unloved and forgotten…_

" _Any requests?" he asked with a smile, knowing full well that Kyle wouldn't answer._

 _He wondered what to play. It had been a long time since he'd picked this old thing up and he wondered if he could still remember any of the songs that he and his mates used to play. He slowly began to strum the guitar and smiled as he drifted into 'Basket Case' by Green Day._

" _Do you have the time_

 _To listen to me whine_

 _About nothing and everything_

 _All at once…"_

 _He glanced at Kyle, who was watching intently and even nodding his head slightly to the music. Maybe this was working?_

" _Sometimes I give myself the creeps_

 _Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me…"_

 _Kyle actually started to smile, and looking at his little face all lit up for the first time since he'd been here, he thought his heart would break. He continued to sing the chorus but he left out the rude words, thinking them inappropriate for Kyle, and laughed at himself. How ridiculous that would have seemed to his teenage self. Censoring the words for his foster son would have seemed unthinkable and so incredibly uncool. It was amazing how we all turn into our parents eventually. He looked again at Kyle._

 _"Do you want to help me sing the chorus?" he asked..._

" _Sometimes I give myself the creeps_

 _Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me…"_

 _He was surprised to see that Kyle was following along and actually mouthing the words, staring at David's fingers as they flitted about on the strings of the guitar. He decided to play the chorus a couple more times and see what Kyle would do._ _On the third go, he thought maybe Kyle was getting bored, and wondered if maybe he should pick a new song…_

 _Suddenly Kyle started to sing along, very quietly a first, and in a soft and scratchy voice from disuse, but audibly following along with the chorus. He played it a fourth time, and this time Kyle sang a little louder. He was surprised that Kyle had such a good singing voice, especially after not speaking for months, and that he'd picked the words up so quickly._

" _I didn't know you could sing so well, Kyl_ e _!" said David, beaming at him with pride,_ "Y _ou have a beautiful voice!"_

 _Kyle looked up at him in a startled way as though he'd only just realised that he'd been singing out loud. There was a look of fear in his eyes as though he'd been caught doing something that he shouldn't. He drew his feet onto the couch and pulled himself into that defensive ball that they'd become so familiar with._

" _It's okay Kyle!" said David, tentatively patting him on the shoulder, "It was so lovely to hear you sing. It made me really happy."_

 _Kyle buried his face in his knees again so David went back to strumming the guitar feeling a little sad that the breakthrough had been so short-lived._

 _Slowly David began to sing a song by R.E.M., a much softer and slower song, thinking that it was quiet and soothing, and more like a lullaby._

" _When your day is long_

 _And the night, the night is yours alone_

 _When you're sure you've had enough_

 _Of this life, well hang on"_

 _Kyle was peeping back over his knees and clearly listening again._

" _Don't let yourself go_

 _'Cause everybody cries_

 _And everybody hurts sometimes…"_

 _He lost himself in the music for a while, singing with his eyes closed, the way he used to when he'd been trying to impress a girl back in his Uni days. He'd always had a good voice and he wasn't too bad on the guitar either._

"… _And everybody hurts sometimes…" he sang._

 _He was enjoying really singing properly for the first time in years. It was such an 'emo' song, he thought to himself with a little chuckle, 'as the kids might say these days.'_

 _Suddenly he heard a little whimper beside him and opened his eyes to look at Kyle. He was surprised to see that he was looking at him for the first time since he'd arrived. Really looking at him. Tears were streaming down his face and his little body was shuddering as he cried. He wasn't sure what to do. He didn't want to overstep the mark and scare him back into a world of isolation and silence but he couldn't just leave him there crying like that either. He slowly set the guitar down on the coffee table and got down on his knees on the floor in front of Kyle. He looked up at him and gave him a sad litte smile._

 _"I'm never going to hurt you, Kyle…" he said softly, "Not ever. Do you understand me?"_

 _He reached out to him, offering to take his hand, and cocked his head at him sympathetically._

 _"I'm never going to make you do anything you don't want to do, Kyle. If you don't want to hold my hand, you don't have to… You can say 'no'. You can always say 'no'… If something makes you uncomfortable, or unhappy, or frightens you, I want you to use that voice of yours and I want you to say 'NO'._

 _Kyle lifted his head and gave David a look full of suspicion. His eyes were wet with tears and his mouth was screwed up into a strange grimace as he tried not to cry. He looked at David's hand held out to him expectantly and then he glanced back up at him. It was like he was sure that this was a test._

 _"No" he whispered, his voice trembling and cracking, as he gently pushed his hand away._

" _No?" asked David with a smile, but he shifted in his crouched position, and the boy's hands flew up to protect himself. He'd obviously thought that he was going to hit him!_

" _No, it's okay, Kyle!" said David, "Come on, tell me again! If you don't want to do something, you say 'no'."_

 _Kyle peeked through his hands and looked surprised to see David smiling at him with kindness in his eyes. It was as though no-one had ever looked at him this way._

 _"Say it again Kyle!" said David, in an encouraging way, "C'mon? Say 'No'?"_

 _Kyle took his hands away from his face and looked at him apprehensively. He was obviously nervous._

 _"No" he said, so quietly it was barely audible._

" _Good boy!" David praised him, "Now say it again! I want to hear that big voice of yours I know you have in there!"_

 _He looked a little scared again, but after a moment or two, he said it again a little louder._

 _"No" he said, flicking his eyes up to meet the older man's, with a renewed light behind them. "No!" he said again, loudly this time and suddenly smiling broadly, "No, no, no!"_

" _That's it!" praised David, with a huge smile creeping across his face. He hadn't expected the music therapy to work so quickly. This was a major breakthrough!_

" _No" he said again, as though he was feeling the shape of the word in his mouth for the first time. "No, no, no, no, no!" he suddenly shouted as he leapt to his feet._

 _He was jumping around the livingroom like a little kangaroo and gleefully shouting "No!" at the top of his lungs._

 _From a boy that was completely mute, to this, in only a few minutes, was nothing short of amazing! David couldn't help laughing and actually clapped his hands together in excitement. It was lovely to see the boy so animated, so lively, so freed!_

" _No! No! No!" he continued to shout, giggling madly now as he jumped about the place with a strange wild-eyed look on his face, "No! No! No!" he shouted over and over. He was getting louder and louder. "No! No! No! Noooo!" he repeated again and again._

 _David's smile began to fade as he realised that there was something manic about his behaviour. His smile looked forced and his eyes were strange and staring. Something was wrong. He made a move towards him because he could see that he was breathing hard, his little chest heaving in and out, and he was beginning to sound breathless in his shouting. Was he going to have a panic attack?!_

 _As he reached out to put his hand on his shoulder, the boy whipped round to face him, with terror in his eyes and roared "Nooooooooo!" at him. He screamed it so loudly, it sounded like he'd torn his vocal chords._

 _He'd gone from smiling like a maniac to clenched fists and a red face full of fury in about five seconds flat. Veins were bulging in his neck._

" _Nooooo!" the boy roared again, taking a step back from him and kicking the coffee table over._

 _He sent the guitar flying onto the floor with a musical bang._

 _"Noooooo!" he roared again through clenched teeth, as he snarled at him like a wild animal and stamped on the guitar with the heel of his foot, "No! No! No!" he shouted, as he reduced the guitar to shards and splinters._

" _Hey! Stop that!" shouted David, in a momentary flash of anger about his guitar._

 _He immediately regretted it though, when he saw the violent flinch that the boy gave, and watched him backing into the furthest corner of the room. He was obviously terrified._

 _"Sorry" he said, holding his hands up in apology, "I didn't mean to shout."_

 _Just then, David caught sight of Jenny looking startled in the doorway, and held his hand up to tell her to stay back. The boy was standing as far away from him now with his little arms wrapped around his chest. He was crying inconsolably and softly repeating the word 'No' to himself under his breath. He'd never seen someone shake like that._

" _I'm not gonna hurt you" said David, as he approached him very slowly with his hands held up in surrender, "I will never hurt you… Never. Ever."_

 _Even as he said it, he wondered if the boy' abusers had used those exact words to get near him. Had they tried to lull him into a false sense of security before doing terrible things to him? Had he ever been able to trust anybody?_

 _When he got close enough, he tilted his head to one side, and looked at the small boy in a pitying sort of way._

 _"No-one is ever going to hurt you again" he said to him, as he reached out tentatively to brush his hair from his eyes._

" _Noooooo!" screamed the boy, as he suddenly started to hit him in the chest with his little hands drawn into fists._

 _Although it certainly hurt, David decided to let him get it out of his system. He was howling and crying like a wounded animal and repeating 'No' as he hit him over and over. He was small for his age and he didn't really know how to punch, so he wasn't doing much damage. Tears were flooding down his little face and his mouth was drawn into a pained snarl._

" _That's it" said David, as he let him tear into him, "Let it out…"_ _He held his hand up again, with a wince, when he saw Jenny make a move to stop him. 'It's okay' he mouthed to her, as he took blow after blow._

" _Nooo!" sobbed Kyle, as he took out all his anger on his new foster dad, "Nooo!"_

 _He was yelling and sobbing and punching for all he was worth..._

 _But suddenly, as though he'd run out of steam, he collapsed to his knees on the floor, crying hysterically in the most pitiful way, and hugging his arms around himself._

 _David looked down at the little boy now huddled at his feet, and his own eyes welled up with tears. He looked so small. So fragile… He crouched down beside him and nervously placed his arms around him in the loosest possible way. He didn't want to scare him._

 _"_ _It's okay, Kyle… It's okay" he said._

 _He was surprised that Kyle let him pull him into a hug and he could feel the boys small body wracked with sobs as he cried._

 _"It's okay" he said again, as he held him and rocked him in his arms._

 _He looked up at his wife, who had tears running down her cheeks and shook his head at her in a 'Dear God! This poor boy!' kind of way._

 _"It's okay, little man" he repeated, "It's okay"_

" _No" whimpered Kyle, as he allowed the man to hold him, "No, it's not!"_


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you so much to the lovely people who took the time to review! Here's chapter 4. I really hope you enjoy it. Again, any feedback (good or bad) would be very much appreciated!**

 **Chapter 4**

Present Day…

i.

Kyle cradled his baby boy in his arms, smiling down at his fragile little face, with love and affection shining in his eyes. He'd never felt so much love for anyone in his life. His heart actually hurt just to look at him. It genuinely ached. He was red and wrinkly, and he'd been born with a funny little head of spiky dark hair, but as he looked at his tiny little hands and his perfect little finger nails, he thought he'd never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

Glancing down at Tamara who was snoozing softly now, and looked absolutely exhausted, he felt his heart swell with overwhelming love for his little family. He'd never thought that this day would come. That he, Kyle Braxton, would actually have a family to call his own was nothing short of amazing, especially when he thought of where he'd come from. To have people who belonged to him, who needed him, and loved him, had seemed far beyond the realms of possibility for such a large part of his life. He hadn't even dared hope for it.

He wasn't sure he had a right to this life. For as long as he could remember there had been a nagging doubt at the back of his mind, surfacing again and again, any time that he even approached a feeling of contentment. There was a voice somewhere deep inside him, that told him he was utterly worthless, and that he didn't really deserve this kind of happiness.

That feeling of worthlessness had been with him his whole life. It never really went away.

But looking at his baby lying sleeping in his arms, and resting now against his chest, he did his best to push those thoughts away. He wasn't going to allow anything to ruin this moment for him, not even his own insecurities. He was so happy that he thought he might burst.

"Hello, Noah, I'm your daddy" he said, as he gently kissed the top of the baby's head, "I'm never going to let anything bad happen to you… Not ever… I promise you that".

Tamara had gone into labour while Kyle was at work. She'd been watching Dirty Dancing and having a girly day with Evie when her waters had suddenly broken. They hadn't even got to the 'I carried a watermelon' part of the movie.

Evie had been telling her about Oscar's latest attempt to woo some girl at the surf club, and Tamara had laughed so hard, that she actually thought that she'd wet herself. It was only when the first contraction came that she realised what was happening. Evie had raised the alarm, and Kyle had made it home, flapping about the place within about half an hour.

Tamara had never seen him in such a panic, he was normally so level headed. It had all happened so very quickly, especially for a first baby, and it had been very clear that the baby was in a big rush to get here. They'd only just managed to make it in the doors of the hospital. If they'd even been twenty minutes later, he might have had to pull over and deliver him by the roadside.

They'd both been told stories of women being in labour for days, especially with a first pregnancy, so they'd thought they would have a bit more time. They'd imagined lengthy waits in the maternity wards, waiting for her to dilate, and even that she might need to be induced if the baby didn't come of his own accord. Tamara had also wanted an epidural and talked it through with her obstetrician. They'd had a birth plan all worked out with clear directives on what they wanted and what they didn't want. They'd had bags all packed and ready, complete with snacks, and things to keep them occupied if it was taking a long time and they were bored.

But things certainly hadn't worked out the way they'd planned! They'd ended up forgetting the bags in the panic to get her there in time, and the fact that it had all been such a rush had meant that Tamara had had to do it drug free.

They were both feeling a little shell-shocked. But Noah was here, safe and healthy, and that was all that mattered now.

Kyle sat in the chair beside his wife's bed, holding their baby in his arms, and gave a heavy sigh of happiness and relief. He reached over and took hold of Tamara's hand. She stirred a little, opening her eyes for a moment and gave him a little smile. She looked tired, and very dishevelled, but he thought that she'd never looked more beautiful.

"I love you Mrs Braxton" he said, smiling from ear to ear. He lifted Noah's tiny little fist and waved it gently at her. "I love you mummy" he said in a tiny baby voice.

She smiled back at them in a tired way and closed her eyes again. "Love you too" she murmured.

Looking back at baby Noah's peaceful little face, he suddenly realised that he was crying. Tears were flooding down his face and he didn't really know why. He just felt overwhelmed with emotion.

He looked at his beautiful wife, dozing in the bed, and his gorgeous little baby boy nestled in his arms, and wondered how he'd got here. How had Kyle Braxton managed to achieve all this?

He felt immensely proud. But there was a nervous feeling clawing at his stomach, and it wouldn't go away. It was making him feel a little sick.

He knew that he had the most precious thing in the world now, and that it was finally in his grasp, but the thought that he might lose it all again absolutely terrified him. What if someone just came and took them from him? What would he do then?

He'd learnt from experience that things and people could be taken away from him just when he needed them the most. People had been taking things from him his whole life.

It was safer to have nothing. If you have nothing, then they can't take it from you.

ii.

"Hey guys!" exclaimed Tamara, as Evie and Josh walked through the door bearing gifts, "Have you come to meet Noah?"

Evie beamed at Tamara, as she sat down on the couch beside her and gazed at the tiny bundle in her friend's arms. "Oh my god, Tam, he's just gorgeous!" she squealed. "Look at his tiny little fingernails! Oh, my god, I could just eat him!"

Josh felt his way around the arm of the couch and plonked himself down in one of the armchairs. "Don't you think there's something kinda weird about that?" he laughed, "The way women always say stuff like that? I mean, you're threatening cannibalism… that's just all kinds of weird!"

"I guess" said Evie, rolling her eyes at Tamara in an exaggerated way. "But seriously… Just look at these little fingeys…" She took his little hand and put it up to her mouth making 'nom nom nom' noises and pretending to eat it. "He's just beautiful, Tam!"

"Do you want a hold?" asked Tamara, smiling at Evie.

Evie squealed and held her hands out, carefully taking the tiny little body in her hands. She placed him against her chest so his head was nestled in against her neck and rocked him gently back and forth. "Oh, that new baby smell!" she giggled.

Josh smiled and shook his head. He was amazed and a little nervous at how broody Evie got around babies. Of course, he was pleased for Kyle and Tamara, and he knew how excited they both were about being parents, but it was hard for him to imagine being a dad himself one day. Not now that he was blind. It wasn't that he didn't want kids. He really did. It was just that being blind had placed so many limitations on his life now and thrown up so many obstacles. He worried that he wouldn't get to be a dad because of it, or if he did, that he'd be useless. He wondered how it would even work?! Would he be able to help Evie to look after the baby if he couldn't see? Would he be able to change nappies and help with the feeds? He hadn't talked to Evie about it, but now that they were talking about getting married and settling down, it was something that was often on his mind.

He picked up the gift bag and held it out in Tamara's direction. "We got you a few things for Noah." he said, "I'm really pleased for you both, by the way."

Thanks guys, that's really kind of you both!" said Tamara, as she took the bag. She turned and smiled at Evie who was totally in her element nursing the baby, and said, "Do you guys want to stay for dinner? Kyle is just getting us some pizza, I can text him and tell him to bring a couple more?"

"Are you sure you don't… I don't know… need a rest?" asked Evie, looking a little concerned. "We wouldn't want to push in if you're still trying to get this one into a routine."

Tamara frowned at her in a mocking kind of way, "Evie, I'm suggesting a few slices of pizza, not an all-night party!"

iii.

"Look who I ran into at Angelo's" said Kyle, as he opened the front door. "I brought them back so they could meet the little man!" He smiled at Evie who was still nursing Noah in her arms and then looked at Tamara to make sure that she was okay with unexpected visitors. She smiled at him, and peered past him to see who was at the door.

"I just couldn't wait to meet him!" said Phoebe, skipping into the living-room, and leaving Ash to carry the stack of pizzas they'd brought for dinner. She perched on the arm at the end of the couch beside Evie, and put her feet on the seat. "Noah is such a lovely name!" she said, tilting her head at the tiny baby in Evie's arms. "He's such a little cutie, isn't he?"

Ash carried a huge stack of pizzas over to the dining table and turned to look at the baby. "He's a sturdy little fella, isn't he?!" said Ash, "What weight is he?"

"Oh, I think someone might need a change!" said Evie, screwing her nose up at the smell, and looking around for someone to take him from her.

Kyle walked over with a huge smile on his face and carefully lifted the baby out of Evie's arms. He cradled him gently against his chest. "He was 4.4Kgs!" he said, "…and whoo, yeah, I think someone definitely does need a change!" He carried him over to the changing mat and knelt down, busily starting to get all the bits and pieces he needed out of the changing bag.

All the girls turned to look at Kyle, and watched admiringly as he expertly changed the baby's tiny nappy. He'd had plenty of practice with Casey so this was nothing new. "He's so good at that, isn't he?" said Phoebe, giving Kyle a wink when he glanced at her over his shoulder.

Ash glanced at Phoebe, wondering if she'd still choose Kyle over him as father material. What if she did want to have kids some day? Would she always think he'd be rubbish as a dad?

Tamara watched as her husband gently dressed the baby again and lifted his little body carefully back into his arms. "Thanks babe…" she said, looking up at him as he passed Noah back to her. "I'm just so tired."

He caressed the side of her face and bent down to kiss her. "You did the hard work, Tam… Love you!"

"Should I get some plates or what?" asked Ash, looking at the stack of pizzas that were getting cold.

Ash wasn't really sure what he was doing there. He and Phoebe were supposed to be getting pizzas and going home for a quiet night in, but then they'd run into Kyle, and Phoebe had jumped on the invitation to come see the baby. He felt a bit uncomfortable now that he was here. All the baby paraphernalia everywhere was making the place very cramped, and he was trying his best not to look at the breast pump and the packet of breast pads lying in plain view on the dining table, sitting beside the pizzas. The thought of it made him feel a bit queasy for some reason. He didn't have much interest in babies either so he really hadn't wanted to come meet the newest Braxton. New-borns gave him the creeps a little bit with their wrinkly skin and their floppy necks. He knew that was weird but he couldn't help how he felt.

"Yeah, thanks Ash. You know where they are!" shouted Kyle as he tidied up the changing mat and went to put the dirty nappy in the bin.

"How's fatherhood treating you so far?" asked Josh, scanning the room as he talked. He was trying to hear where Kyle had gone. "Is he keeping you awake at night?"

Kyle came back over and sat on the arm of Josh's chair. "Yeah, it's great Josh… Really… He's sleeping pretty well so far but he's only a couple of days old… we'll see what he's like in a few weeks I guess."

iv.

Kyle finished washing the last of the plates and placed them in the drainer. He dried his hands and turned to look back at Tamara who was sitting in the living-room. She was breastfeeding Noah and flicking through the channels on the TV with the sound turned down low. He leaned against the wall and watched them together, thinking how beautiful this little scene was, his wife and his tiny new-born baby cuddling together on his couch. He wished that he could take a picture of this and go back in time to show it to his childhood self, to let him know that there was hope, and that there was a future worth hanging on for. He still couldn't quite believe this was real.

He made them both a cup of tea, and carried the cups over to the couch, setting them down on the coffee table and sliding into the seat beside her. He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in beside him with a big smile on his face.

"God, I'm glad they're gone!" he said, with a big sigh. "Just the three of us now… exactly how it should be."

She turned to look at him and smirked at him, "You're the one that invited half the town for a pizza party!"

"You invited Josh and Evie!" he said, looking down at Noah's little face as he suckled hungrily. "Anyway, it got it out of the way for a day or two! We can have him to ourselves for a little while!"

She leaned over with a huge smile and kissed him. "It was nice to see everyone… but god I'm tired!" she said, with a heavy sigh. "All I want to do is sit here and veg. I don't think I have the energy for anything else."

"That's why you're going to put your feet up and let me look after you… both of you" he said, kissing her on the forehead, and then planting a light kiss on the top of Noah's head. "I love you both so much."

He let out a happy sigh, as he sat back with his arm around Tamara, and she leant her head against his shoulder. He lifted the remote control and began to flick through the channels. Suddenly his heart gave a terrible jump as something caught his eye on the evening news. He was frozen to the spot with his heart thumping in his chest, and he felt like someone had just kicked him in the stomach. He turned the volume up, trying to hide his shaking hand from Tamara, and an icy chill ran down his spine.

" _Exhumations continue at the Hames family home. Residents say they are shocked by these gruesome discoveries. They say that Mr and Mrs Hames had been seen as pillars of the community for many years, and that they were known for their generosity and kindness. Police are still working on identifying the bodies, and details will be released as they come in. Police released a statement a few hours ago, saying that four bodies have been recovered so far. They are those of children ranging from approximately 8 to 14 years old but the number of dead looks set to climb. Police are still appealing for any individuals who may have been fostered by the Hames' to come forward and speak to the police urgently. The question on everyone's lips is this: despite heavy involvement of DoCS for nearly 20 years, how was this allowed to happen?"_


	5. Chapter 5

**So here's chapter 5. I know they're a bit close together but they were originally one chapter so I'd rather that people read 4 & 5 together, rather than waiting. I hope you enjoy this one, although I'm not sure that 'enjoy' is the right word. It's quite dark in places. **

**Any feedback would be very much appreciated, even if it's just to let me know that you read it. If you have any suggestions though, please let me know.**

WARNING: ADULT THEMES!

 **Chapter 5**

i.

Present Day…

 _It was over… For tonight anyway - he hoped._

 _He couldn't take any more… Not tonight… He wrapped his little arms around his legs and pulled himself into the smallest ball that he could manage. He couldn't stop his body shaking or the tears from streaming down his face. He knew that he was bleeding, not that that was anything new, but it made him feel cold …and dirty. Of course, he_ _ **was**_ _dirty. Their filth was all over him and the taste still in his mouth. He couldn't stand the smell either but there was nothing he could do about it. There never was. It was dark down here, as always, but he felt a lot safer here in the darkness, than up there in the light. Bright lights always meant that bad things were about to happen. In the darkness, he knew that he was on his own, and that they'd leave him here to recover, at least for a while. Maybe even a week if he was lucky? Maybe he could even get some sleep if he could somehow ignore the pain, and find a way to lie that was comfortable? That was if he could find a way to block out the horrible noises coming from upstairs. He hated having to listen to the others. Knowing what was happening to them, and listening to them cry out? It was sometimes worse than being the one it was happening to. He couldn't stop the pictures forming in his head or playing out the scene in his mind as though it was happening again to him, right there, right then. He was tortured by it. He brought his hands up to cover his ears and quietly hummed to himself some long-forgotten lullaby. He wasn't sure where he'd heard it the first time, but it always helped to soothe him, at least a little. He always went back to it, to try to block everything else out. He rocked his body back and forth, in an attempt to soothe himself, but it wasn't really working. He felt sick. He wished that he could just make himself invisible or simply disappear off the face of the planet. Sometimes he wished that they'd just kill him..._

"Kyle, wake up!" cried Tamara, as she shook him by the shoulder, "Wake up, baby! It's just a nightmare!".

Kyle opened his eyes, and darted them around their dimly lit bedroom. He looked more startled than she'd ever seen him. He was sitting in the bed beside her, curled up into a little ball, and he'd woken her up with his crying. He'd been sobbing in his sleep and she'd been shocked to see him this way. He'd very rarely cried in front of her.

"Babe, it's okay" she said, lightly placing her hand on his shoulder again, "I'm here…. Are you okay?"

He turned to look at her, wide-eyed and staring, and opened his mouth to speak, but before the words could leave his mouth, his face crumpled and he began to cry again. He reached out for her and pulled her into a desperate hug. She was shocked, but she held onto him tightly, as his body was wracked with violent sobs, and she wondered what on earth was going on. She'd never seen him like this and it was scaring her a little.

"I'm sorry" he said, barely getting the words out as he cried, "I'm… so… sorry!"

She rocked him from side to side and he hugged her so tightly that he was hurting her a little. "You have nothing to be sorry about" she said, "Nothing, Kyle… You're a good man."

With that he started to cry even more and she wondered what to do. What on earth had he been dreaming about and where had this come from? He'd been a little quieter than usual when they'd gone to bed last night but it hadn't seemed like anything to worry about. He could just be quiet at times. This whole thing seemed as though it had come out of nowhere and she couldn't understand it. Was he having some weird kind of male version of post-natal depression?!

She pulled back a little to look at his face and he looked at her with so much pain in his eyes that she thought her heart might break. He looked so shaken and vulnerable. She took his face in her hands and leaned in to kiss him softly. Then she pulled him over in the bed so he was lying with his head in her lap and she began to gently stroke his hair. She looked down at her husband as he lay there softly crying, and she began to hum Mockingbird, just like her mother had for her when she was little. He closed his eyes and slowly started to drift back off to sleep. She glanced at the tiny baby in the cot beside their bed, grateful that he hadn't woken too, and wondered what on earth was going on in his daddy's head. This seemed like so much more than a bad dream.

ii.

Tamara wandered out to the living-room with baby Noah in her arms, wiping the sleep away from her eyes, and rolling her shoulders to try to ease her aching back. She'd fallen asleep in a sitting position, nursing her crying husband, and woken to find that he wasn't there. She was surprised to see him flitting about the kitchen, busily making them both breakfast. "Hey" she said, still sounding a little sleepy.

He spun around with a big smile on his face and said "Hey, sleepyhead! I was just about to come get you! I've made us a big breakfast… eggs, bacon, French toast… sit down and I'll get you a plate!" He nodded to a chair for her to sit down and turned back to the frying pan where the bacon was still quietly sizzling.

She looked at him with concern, and placed baby Noah in his bassinette, before sliding into the seat that he'd indicated. This wasn't what she'd been expecting. She waited patiently while he plated up the food, and brought the plates to the table, before sitting down opposite her with a big dopey grin on his face. Looking up at him now, she began to wonder if she'd imagined the whole thing. Last night had seemed pretty strange. "Are you okay this morning?" she ventured, sounding a little nervous, "I mean… after last night?"

He smiled at her and stuffed a heap of French toast in his mouth. "I'm fine, Tam… It was just a bad dream… sorry if I freaked you out." he said, speaking with his mouth full. "Want some orange juice?" he asked, jumping up again to go to the fridge.

"Yeah, ok" she called after him. "Are you sure that's all it was? It just seemed like something… _more_."

He slumped a little with his arms on the door of the fridge, but he kept his back to her as he tried to hide the fear on his face. He was desperately trying to push away the images and sensations from his dream last night… but it just wasn't working. It had been so real. Image after image flooded through his mind, and he had to fight a wave of nausea that was threatening to crash. His heart was thumping now too, but he grabbed the bottle of orange from the fridge door, and turned back to face her with as sincere a smile as he could plaster on. "Really Tam" he said, doing his best to convince her, "It's nothing to worry about!"

He re-joined her at the table and began to eat in an over enthusiastic way, ferociously choking down the food as though he was somehow angry at it. He jabbed piece after piece of French toast in his mouth and chewed them down quickly. She watched with concern etched on her face. "Kyle, I'm just worried about you" she said, "You know I love you… You can tell me anything."

He nodded as he stared at what was left of his plate of food, unable to meet her eyes, and mumbled, "I'm okay Tam, can we just leave it?" He reached for his glass and opened the bottle of orange but quickly set it down again when he realised how badly his hands were shaking. He glanced at Tamara, and blushed a little red, knowing that his shaking hands hadn't gone unnoticed. He went to put another forkful of food in his mouth but his stomach suddenly felt like it was tied in knots. He set the fork down and gave a heavy sigh. He wondered who he was trying to kid. He certainly hadn't done a good job of convincing Tamara that he was okay, and all the cooked breakfasts in the world weren't going to make him feel any better about things. He could feel her eyes on him and it was making him feel anxious. He knew that she just wanted to help, and that he probably owed her an explanation, but he just wasn't ready to talk to her about it. He wasn't sure he'd ever be ready. "I love you too" he said, glancing up at her worried eyes, before quickly looking away again.

He got up and went over to baby Noah, and smiled into the bassinette at him. "Come here little man" he said as he gently lifted the tiny little baby into his arms and rested him against his chest. "I think someone needs a fresh nappy" he said to him as he walked away towards the changing mat. He was grateful for something to take the attention off him and give him something else to focus on.

Tamara watched as he kneeled on the floor to change Noah's nappy and wondered what to do. There was clearly something more going on here than he was willing to admit, and if it had upset him this much, then it was something that they were going to have to confront sooner or later. She couldn't help worrying about what it was, but she knew that she couldn't force the issue with him. One thing that she knew about Kyle Braxton was that he'd talk to her when he was ready, or not at all. She loved him, and she knew that if she could get him to open up to her, then she'd be there for him no matter what. She just hoped it would be sooner rather than later.

When he brought Noah back, and placed him gently in the bassinette, she got to her feet and threw her arms around his waist. She looked up at him and stood on her tiptoes to give him a long slow kiss. "I love you, Kyle Braxton… Don't you ever forget that!" she said, pulling in against him with her head against his chest.

He gave a big sigh and kissed her on the top of the head. "I love you more than you'll ever know" he said, with a sadness in his voice that she hadn't heard before.

iii.

"Have you seen that red t-shirt of mine?" asked Kyle as he walked out into the living-room, shirtless and rubbing his hair with a towel. He smiled when he saw that Tamara was nearly nodding off as she nursed Noah on the couch. He walked over and leaned over the back of the couch to give her a kiss on the neck. "Hey babe, why don't you go and have a lie down?" he asked, giving her a little smile.

She leaned back on the couch to look up at him and yawned as she spoke, "I'm just a little sleepy… _Someone_ had me up half the night!"

He continued to smile, but it was a little half-hearted now, and she could see the flicker of hurt in his eyes. "Sorry Tam" he said, looking a little ashamed of himself, "I can take him for a while if you want to get some sleep?"

"I'm just kidding" said Tamara, regretting her attempt at humour. He clearly wasn't ready to be teased about it. "Why don't you sit down and we can have a cuddle with Mr Noah Braxton here?" she coaxed, reaching out for his hand. "C'mon, just the three of us?"

"Sounds good, Tam. Just need to grab a t-shirt first. Do you know where my red one is?" he asked, giving her a smile and kissing her on the top of the head.

"Um… I think it's in the basket in the kitchen" she said, letting go of his hand again and turning her attention back to baby Noah.

He walked out to the kitchen and grabbed the t-shirt, slipping it over his head, and then turned the kettle on to make them both a cup of tea. He smiled as he glanced back through the doorway at his wife and baby on the couch, thinking that he needed to try to live in this moment, and do his best to forget the past, at least for today. He turned away and reached a couple of mugs off the shelf, and then rummaged through the cupboard to see if he could find that roll of chocolate biscuits that Tamara liked so much with her tea.

Suddenly he heard her turn the TV on, and his heart skipped a beat when he heard the newsreader say the names that he'd been trying to forget all his life. " _Simon and Jessica Hames…"_. His blood ran cold and he thought that he might vomit on the spot. "Tam, can we keep the TV off? Please?!" he managed to shout from the kitchen. He had to grip onto the edge of the counter as his heart began to race in his chest. He didn't dare to turn around and look at the TV screen. He leant against the counter in the kitchen, out of view of Tamara, and desperately tried to get his breathing under control. He felt a wave of nausea crash over him as a long-suppressed memory flashed through his mind…

" _Get up!" said the voice above him, and he shielded his eyes from the torchlight with his hands. "On your feet boy!" said the voice again, before a large boot struck him in the chest as he lay shivering on the floor. He coughed and wheezed and cradled his ribs, looking up at the bright light in fear. "I said 'get up'!" shouted the man, with a gravelly smoker's voice. Then a hand reached down and trailed him to his feet by his hair. He knew better than to cry or squeal, so he allowed himself to be dragged painfully to his feet without making a sound. The man shoved him out the door towards the stairs and gave him a dig in the back every few steps to make him move faster. He saw the other boy who'd arrived a few weeks ago, curled up on the floor and crying, as he walked past. When they got to the stairs, the man went first, and he trailed behind, dreading what lay ahead. He walked with his head down, staring at the ground and shaking like a leaf, as he trudged up towards the blinding light …_

"Kyle!" exclaimed Tamara, as she stood in the doorway of the kitchen. "Baby! Are you okay?" she asked, as she ran to his side. He was slumped on the kitchen floor, hyperventilating and shaking, and clutching at his chest like he was having a heart attack. She didn't know what to do. He was staring at her with the strangest look, as though he didn't know who she was, and his eyes were desperately darting around the room as he struggled to breathe. "What should I do?!" she cried, taking his hand in hers and placing her other hand on his neck to check his pulse. She was shocked at how hard his heart was beating and wondered if he was having some sort of heart attack. She took her phone out and called Nate.

iv.

"Have you ever had a panic attack before?" asked Nate, as he held his fingers on Kyle's wrist to take his pulse. The worst of it was over now and his breathing was nearly back to normal, but he could see how shaken up both he and Tamara were.

"A few, yeah" said Kyle, glancing nervously at Nate. He just wanted him to leave him in peace. This whole thing was embarrassing enough without getting Nate involved and he didn't want to have to answer more questions than was absolutely necessary. He'd spent his life evading questions from well-meaning types like him, but he still found it exhausting. He just wanted to curl up in a ball and hide away forever. He could see that the doctor had his head tilted at him with a look of concern on his face now, so he knew that he'd have to provide a bit more information if he was going to get him off his case. "I had a few when I was a teenager… No big deal. I got over them."

"And none since then?" asked Nate, starting to put his blood pressure cuff away.

"Nope" said Kyle, sounding a little annoyed. He could see Tamara rocking baby Noah back and forth in the living-room as he cried loudly. She was keeping a watchful eye on him as Nate checked him over. "None" he said, shaking his head.

"Any idea what might have triggered it?" asked Nate, wondering if it had anything to do with the baby. Maybe becoming a dad and being responsible for another little life was just a bit overwhelming? It wouldn't be that unusual for new parents to freak out when the reality of it all hit home.

"No… I don't know" mumbled Kyle, hoping that he would take him at his word and leave him alone. He looked up at Tamara who was standing beside them now, and shook his head at her, silently asking her not to tell him anything more.

"He had a really bad nightmare last night" she said, failing to pick up on his discomfort. "I think it's something to do with that."

"Nightmare?" asked Nate, checking his eyes again with his torch. Kyle pulled away with a loud 'tut' and glared at him. It was clear that he was uncomfortable being examined like this and Nate could see that. He stood up and put his hand out to him to pull him up onto his feet but he ignored it.

"I'm fine!" grunted Kyle, as he clambered shakily onto his feet and gripped onto the counter to regain his balance.

"Come sit down" said Nate, as he led him over to the couch and sat down beside him. "Are you having nightmares, Kyle?" he asked again.

"I had one bad dream, last night, yeah" he said, scowling at Tamara. " _One_ bad dream! Okay?! ...I think Tam is blowing this way out of proportion!"

"Kyle, you were crying!" she exclaimed, trying to get Noah to settle. His little face was bright red and he was roaring as loudly as his little body would let him. She ignored how angry Kyle now looked and turned to face Nate. "He won't tell me what he dreamt about, but it had him pretty shaken… and now he's having panic attacks!" Looking back at Kyle, she said, "I'm worried, Kyle… If this were me, you'd have me whisked away to every doctor you could find by now and you know it!"

"It's different!" he said, getting to his feet, "I'm not ill… I just want to be left alone, okay?!" He walked over to Tamara, taking a screaming Noah out of her arms, and placed him gently on his chest. He began to rock him back and forth, humming softly, and slowly the baby's crying began to calm.

"I don't know how he does that" said Tamara, seeing the surprised look on Nate's face. "He's just really good with babies."

"Okay, well Kyle, if you ever want to talk about anything, you know where I am" said Nate. He picked up his medical bag and gave Tamara a half-smile. He could see that he didn't want to talk about what was bothering him and he'd learnt that the Braxtons could never be pushed into doing anything they didn't want to do. The ball was in his court now.

Kyle turned around and looked at Nate, feeling a little guilty for being so rude. He knew that he was only trying to help him and that he'd dropped everything and run over here because Tamara has asked him to. He felt a little ungrateful. "Thanks Nate" he muttered as the doctor headed towards the door, "I appreciate you coming the whole way over here… but I'm okay… really… We're sorry for wasting your time."

Tamara rolled her eyes at Nate while Kyle wasn't looking and shook her head in an exasperated way. He'd really scared her today but he didn't seem to understand that. She wished that he'd let her in a little more, and tell her what had him so rattled, but she guessed that she'd have to wait for him to come round of his own accord. "Thanks Nate" she said, giving him a wave and a grateful smile as he left.

Kyle sat down on the couch with a heavy sigh, and Tamara leaned in beside him and lifted Noah out of his arms again. "You scared me" she said to him, with her chin trembling and tears welling in her eyes.

He put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in beside him, and sighed, "I'm sorry Tam, I didn't mean to… I don't know why that happened today." He hated lying to her, but if it came to it, and he had to tell her the truth, then he had no idea where to even start. It was all so complicated, and hard to talk about, and he felt so deeply ashamed. What if she didn't want him anymore when she knew the truth about him? When she knew that he was damaged goods? What would he do then?


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you for the lovely comments! Here's chapter 6. I really hope you enjoy this one...**

 **(Again, to anyone who's reading this, I would really appreciate it if you could let me know what you think)**

 **Chapter 6**

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Ky-le, Happy Birthday to yoooouuuuuu!" sang the crowd as they gathered around an incredibly embarrassed and uncomfortable looking Kyle Braxton.

A surprise party had been the last thing that he wanted. He'd hoped to spend a quiet evening with Tamara, and pretend that there was nothing special about this day, just like he did most years. He tried his best to plaster on a fake smile for the party guests, and looked around at the smiling faces of his friends, just wishing that they'd all go home. Birthdays weren't something that he liked to celebrate. It wasn't even like it was a big milestone, he was twenty-seven years old.

"Thanks guys" he said, doing his best to hide his unease.

Tamara threw her arms around his waist and kissed him on the cheek.

"Aren't you going to blow out your candles?" she asked, looking up at him with a big smile stretching from ear to ear.

He glanced at the circle of grinning faces, hemming him in around a cake with 27 candles on it, and making him feel trapped. He had an overwhelming urge to run away. With everything going on, he really couldn't cope with being the centre of attention, and it was making him anxious to know that everyone was looking at him. He looked down at Tamara and forced a half-smile.

"C'mon then! Let me see this cake!" he said.

He leant down over it, and took a big breath to blow out the multitude of flames in front of him.

As he took in a whiff of candle wax and the sickly-sweet smell of the fondant icing, a memory came flooding back into his mind. It was like he'd been transported there in an instant...

 **xxx**

" _Kyle, would you come here for a moment?" called David._

 _He was sitting at the dining table, hand in hand with Jenny, and smiling in his direction._

" _No" said Kyle. He looked up from the guitar and glanced quickly at them before looking away again. It was a nervous glance, to check if he was in trouble or not, or if they were angry at him._

 _David smirked and rolled his eyes at Jenny. Since that meltdown about a month ago, Kyle had been using that word more and more often. He had been refusing to do all sorts of things. For the first while he'd said it with great caution, shielding himself when David or Jenny made any sudden movements, as though he thought that they might reach out and hit him at any moment. Then, as time had gone on, he'd begun to grow in confidence, and he'd been known to roar the word 'No' at the top of his lungs when he really didn't want to do something. David joked that they'd created a monster._

 _He still wasn't speaking much, but he'd asked a few questions, and spoken the odd sentence here and there. He just wasn't ready for lengthy chats yet, and they hadn't been able to get any information out of him about his past. When they asked him about where he'd been before, he would simply retreat into a world of silence. Any questions about his previous foster home and he would draw himself into that defensive ball and start to rock back and forth. They'd learnt that his past was off limits for now._

 _Miss Blenheim had been next to useless when they'd tried to discuss it with her, and his file was just full of gaps. Their GP had tried to do a physical exam but the boy had become so distressed that they'd put it off for now. There was no point upsetting him. Besides, that was the one thing that they did have in the file. According to medical documents from a few months ago, he'd been given a clean bill of health. No signs of anything untoward. It did seem strange given his worrying behaviour but it had put their minds at rest. At least from a physical perspective..._

 _The GP had suggested getting him into counselling. He'd provided them with a list of psychologists who specialised in behavioural problems in children, but they were still trying to find someone who would be willing to come to the house. Kyle was still too scared of the outside world._

" _I think you might like to hear what we have to say!" coaxed David. "It involves cake!" He said it in a slightly sing-songy voice and rubbed his tummy in an exaggerated way._

 _Sometimes it was easy to forget that Kyle was turning fourteen years old. He certainly didn't look it, and because his behaviour was sometimes so childlike, it was difficult to view him as a teenager. He sometimes had to catch himself before he spoke to him, and rephrase things in a slightly more adult way. Sometimes, when he replayed what he'd said in his head, he felt embarrassed to have spoken to him in such a condescending way, as though he was speaking to a small child. Kyle didn't seem to mind though, and he really didn't seem to see it as patronising._

 _"Kyle, please, mate?" he pleaded, "We just want a little chat."_

 _Kyle gave a little sigh and set down the guitar. He walked over to them with his head hanging low, and plodded in that downtrodden way that they'd become so familiar with. He slid into the seat opposite them and reached for the salt cellar before pouring a large pile of salt out onto the table._

" _So…" said David._

 _He watched as Kyle began tracing his finger through the pile of salt to make a spiral pattern. He did that a lot when they sat at the dining table. It allowed him to avoid eye contact and to distract himself from the conversation if he didn't want to engage._

" _So, we know it's your birthday tomorrow…" he continued, "…and we were wondering if you'd like to have a party?"_

 _Kyle stopped playing with the salt and looked up. He glanced from David, to Jenny, and then back to David, looking confused. He started to move his mouth, shaping words that never came, and then looked back at the table again._

" _Not my birthday" he eventually said, very quietly. So quietly, in fact, that David wasn't sure that he'd heard him correctly._

" _It says in your file that it's your birthday..." said Jenny, looking at David quizzically._

" _Tomorrow's the 12_ _th_ _December… You're going to be fourteen." said David, gently placing a hand on Kyle's shoulder._

 _Kyle shook his head and said, "Not my birthday."_

 _He started drawing lines in the salt again, and rocked back and forth slightly in the chair. They could both see that he was getting agitated._

" _Then, when is your birthday?" asked David, tilting his head at him._

 _Kyle shrugged his shoulders and wiped the salt onto the floor._

" _Don't have one" he muttered quietly._

" _Of course, you do!" said Jenny, smiling at him now. "Everyone has a birthday, Kyle… Your file says that yours is tomorrow…" She tilted her head at him in pity. "Have you never had a birthday cake?!" she asked._

 _She was already fairly sure of the answer._ _Everything about this child just broke her heart. That he could have gotten to fourteen years old without anyone caring enough to celebrate his birthday was just unthinkable in her world. What on earth was wrong with these people?!_

 _He looked up at Jenny and shook his head. A confused look came over his face and he glanced at David again._

" _What file?" he asked._

" _Your case file, Kyle…"_ said David, _"Miss Blenheim gave us a copy of some of the documents so that we'd know some stuff about your background."_

 _He was trying to treat him like a teenager rather than the small child that he appeared. He looked at Jenny and shrugged his shoulders a little. He wasn't sure if this was a good idea or not but he didn't think it was fair to keep it from him either._

" _Do you want to see it?" he asked._

 _Kyle nodded and David got up to go and get it from his desk in the study. He returned with a brown folder and set it gently on the table beside Kyle. He pulled his chair closer to him and sat with his arm around him on the back of his chair. He could see that Kyle was staring at it with a certain trepidation._

" _Are you sure you want to?" he asked, leaning down to try to make eye contact with him._

 _Kyle nodded and reached out to open the file. On the first page was a photocopied photo of him. It had been taken a few months before, and beside it there was a list of basic information._

" _Kyle Ben-nett" he managed to make out._

 _His reading wasn't good, but a girl at the house had taught him as best she could, with a torch and an old encyclopaedia. She'd seemed to think it was important that he learn to read and write, but then one day she'd just disappeared. He hadn't progressed much after that. He knew how to sound out words but he just couldn't read fluently. He scanned down the page with his index finger and silently mouthed the words as he went._

" _Moth-er… "Ssssa-rah Ben-nett" he sounded out quietly._

 _David glanced at Jenny with concern, as he realised how poor Kyle's reading was, although he wasn't actually that surprised given what they'd come to know about him. It was just sad._

" _Fffa-ther… Dan-el… Bra… Bra?", said Kyle, struggling with what to do with an 'X'._

 _He looked up at David and raised his shoulders at him in a questioning way. He looked embarrassed._

" _Daniel Braxton" said David, tracing his finger over the word. "Brax-ton" he said again, enunciating clearly. "Sarah Bennett was your mother, and Daniel Braxton is your father" he said, nodding at him sadly._

 _He assumed that he would have known their names, but then it occurred to him that small children often don't know their parent's first names, and given his mother's alcohol issues, he supposed that she might never have told him._

" _See here?" he said pointing to the D.O.B section, "That's your birthday… 12.12.1990… That's the 12_ _th_ _December… tomorrow."_

 _Kyle turned the page and peered at the photo on the next page as though he'd never seen this woman before in his life. It was a colour photocopy of a photo, showing a woman with wavy auburn hair and soft brown eyes, and she was smiling into the camera. She had long silver earrings that looked Indian and a solid silver necklace around her neck. She had a multitude of silver and turquoise bangles on her wrist, and was wearing a long flowing printed dress, which hinted at backpacking trips around Asia. This certainly didn't look like someone suffering from addiction problems, but rather a beautiful young woman in the prime of her life. David pointed at the handwritten note that had been written on the back of the photo. They'd photocopied that as well._

" _It says here, 'Sarah Bennett, November 1989…" He handed the file to Kyle and smiled at him, "This was your mother before she had you, Kyle."_

 _Kyle took the folder in his hands and stared down at it. He couldn't see anything that he recognised in this photo. He thought that she looked nice, and that he would have liked her to be his mother, but he felt an enormous sadness that this woman was a total stranger to him. He didn't understand how he couldn't remember her._

 _He put the folder back on the table and turned the page. There was a black and white mugshot photo of a man with a large 1980s moustache. He didn't recognise this person either, that was for sure! He didn't like the look of him though. He didn't like his eyes. They were cold and predatory. He thought he looked like the type of men that waited in the rooms upstairs. The type of men who liked to hurt for fun… The man was holding up a board with writing on it. Both words and numbers. He could see that word again, with the 'x'._

" _Dan-el Braxton?" he said, looking up at David for approval._

" _Daniel" said David, correcting him, "Dan-i-el… but yes, 'Braxton'… That's your father."_

 _His eyes darted up at him in a worried kind of way. The man in that photo didn't look like the kind of man that anyone would want to be their father! He was already scared of him, and it was only a photograph!_

 _David smiled at him reassuringly and squeezed his shoulder._

 _"You don't have to see him" he said, noticing his discomfort, "Not if you don't want to."_

 _Jenny sat gazing at them, with her elbows on the table and her head resting in her hands. She was amazed at how good David was with him, especially with this stuff that was so difficult to deal with, and felt immensely proud to call him her husband. He'd shown her just how kind and sensitive he could be, and she was even more in love with him now than she'd ever been. She just felt terrible for poor little Kyle, that all he had left of his family was what was in that brown file. No-one should have to lose all sense of who they are._

 _Kyle sighed and looked at David with a sadness in his big brown eyes._

" _Not my family" he said, shaking his head and closing the file, "Don't know them."_

 _David tilted his head at him questioningly, wondering how he could have forgotten his birth family at such an advanced age. But thinking about the trauma that he'd been through, he supposed that it might be possible for him to have wiped everything and started again with a blank canvas. How sad it was that he didn't even remember his own mother!_

" _That's okay, Kyle… we'll put this away" said David, pushing the file away across the table. "It is your birthday tomorrow though… How would you feel about a very small party? I'd really like my brother and his kids to meet you?"_

 _Kyle shrugged, getting up, and wandering back over to the sofa. He picked up the new guitar and began absently strumming at it. David was trying to teach him how to play, and he was picking it up quite quickly, especially considering how slow he seemed to be at everything else._

" _I'll take that as a 'yes', will I Kyle?" called David, half-joking. He didn't really expect a reply._

" _Yes" mumbled Kyle, much to Jenny and David's surprise._

 _That was the first time he'd said 'yes' to anything. David turned and smiled brightly at his wife, feeling like they were definitely making progress now…_

 **xxx**

"How old are you anyway?" asked Zac, slapping Kyle on the back, and forcing him back to the present. "You're just a young buck still, aren't you?" he said, laughing a little and feeling suddenly so much older.

"Twenty-seven" mumbled Kyle, as he tried to force a smile on his face.

He really wasn't in the mood for this party, or to have to make small talk with people. Zac was a nice guy, and in normal circumstances he'd have been more than happy to have a chat with him, but not tonight. He glanced around the room and gave a heavy sigh. He could see that half the Bay had shown up for his birthday party and he knew that he should feel good about that. People clearly cared about him, and held him in high regard, and they'd taken the time to come and wish him well on his birthday… but he just wanted them out of his house and to go to his room and curl up in the darkness. This was all too much. What had Tamara been thinking?!

"Ah you're just a baby!" said Zac, grinning and taking a swig of his beer. "Wait till you're my age and you'll start feeling all these aches and pains…"

"Yeah, cos he's just ancient!" teased Leah. She elbowed Zac in the side a little playfully. "Honestly, you'd think he was a hundred from the way he talks!"

Kyle smiled at them a little half-heartedly, and tried his best to laugh at the joke.

Leah touched him on the arm and gave him a sympathetic look.

"You seem a bit tired, Kyle… Baby Noah keeping you up at night?" she asked.

"No, he's as good as gold most nights!" said Kyle, shaking his head and smiling from ear to ear. The first sincere smile all night. Noah never failed to make him smile and he really couldn't imagine his life without him now. "I'm fine, Leah, really!"

As he glanced across the room, he could see Phoebe gazing at him, and as they made eye contact she gave him a big smile and a wink.

"Excuse me guys" he said, as he moved away towards her. She was standing with Ash, Andy, Evie, and Josh.

He sidled up to Phoebe, and she turned and threw her arms around him, nearly knocking him off his feet.

"Happy Birthday, Kyle!" she squealed, hugging him so tightly that he could hardly breathe. "How come you never let me throw you a party like this?" she said, giving him a scolding look, as she let him go.

"Because I don't like celebrating my birthday" he said, shaking his head and frowning. "Tam just took matters into her own hands this year… and…"

"…And you're not happy, are you?!" she exclaimed, rolling her eyes at him. "Braxton! C'mon! You need to let people be nice to you every now and then! Honestly! …Your poor wife tries to do something nice for you and what thanks does she get?! Huh?!" she said, shaking him by the shoulders and giggling loudly.

Ash took a swig of his beer and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his girlfriend. He didn't like her overly friendly attitude towards Kyle, and he was seething a little on the inside.

"Happy Birthday!" said Evie, reaching out and hugging Kyle a little awkwardly.

Josh smiled and tilted his beer bottle a little, as though he was making a toast. "Yeah" he said, "Happy birthday, Kyle".

The other two boys muttered 'Happy birthday' too, and the two girls rolled their eyes and shook their heads at each other.

Kyle looked around and felt his heart-rate rise as he counted nearly forty people in his living-room. He could see Tamara on the far side of the room handing out slices of cake to people, and laughing loudly with Chris and Hannah. Alf, Roo, and Irene were having a giggle over in another corner. Leah was sitting in Zac's lap now, feeding him chocolate cake, and laughing that loud infectious laugh of hers. Even Kat and Nate seemed to be getting on really well. Everywhere he looked, all he could see were smiling happy faces, while he was finding it harder and harder to hide the fact that he felt like his world was falling to pieces.

He stood there talking to Phoebe and the others and tried his best to look like he was enjoying himself. He owed it to Tamara. He might not have wanted this party but he knew that she'd meant well.

Suddenly he heard it and his heart nearly stopped. Marilyn and John were behind him and they were talking about the Hames' case in Melbourne.

"Oh God! Irene!" gasped Marilyn, "I was so shocked when I saw it on the news this evening! Those poor little children! I just can't get them out of my head!" She shook her head in despair. "I mean, how many have they found so far?!"

"I think they said 5 so far" said John, "But they think there's more... It's some paedophile ring..."

"It doesn't bear thinking about" sighed Irene, "That it went unnoticed for so long... They're saying 20 years!"

"How does something like that happen?!" asked Marilyn, "I mean, can you imagine being their neighbours... finding out that that was happening in the house next door?! All those little children murdered and buried in the garden?!" She shook herself as though she had a shiver down her spine.

"I guess, it's like they say..." said John, "You never know what's going on behind closed doors... All sorts of evil..."

Kyle felt like he was about to suffocate. He genuinely couldn't breathe! He handed his beer to Phoebe and managed to say the word 'bathroom' before making a quick exit towards the hallway. He leaned against the wall and let out a shuddering breath as he fought a wave of anxiety that he'd been holding at bay since he'd walked in here tonight. Having people talk about it right in front of him had just tipped him over the edge. His heart was thumping ferociously in his chest now and his legs felt like jelly. He wanted more than anything to run away...

But how could he run from the memories plaguing his mind?

" _Dirty little slut!"_ grunted a man's voice, " _You know you want it!"_ He shuddered at the memory of it _,_ remembering the feel of the man's breath as he panted those words in his ear, and the feel of his groping hands on his flesh. The way _'it'_ felt. The words echoed in his head over and over. His stomach began to roll...

He shut his eyes as he tried to calm himself. To push away the rush of memories now flooding through his mind. He'd been hiding this for years! Why couldn't he get his shit together this time, he wondered?! Why was he falling apart now?!

As he listened to the room full of people out there, shouting and laughing and having fun, he couldn't help wondering what they'd think of him. If they knew the truth? How would he even look them in the eye if they knew the things that had happened to him? The things that he'd had to do to survive?

His stomach gave a terrible lurch at that thought, and he made a mad dash for the bathroom. He only just got the door closed before collapsing to his knees and vomiting. He hadn't eaten much today so there wasn't much to throw up. Despite that, he kept dry-heaving over the bowl for what felt like forever. Eventually, the spasms began to calm down, and he collapsed on his bum beside the toilet. As he sat there panting heavily, and wiping at his mouth, he could hear everyone out in the living-room. He couldn't face them. He didn't know what to do, but he knew that he couldn't go back out there.

"Kyle? Are you okay?" asked Phoebe. She was standing outside the bathroom door with her ear pressed against it. "I heard you getting sick. Do you want me to go get Tamara?"

He didn't answer at first. Part of him was hoping that she'd take the hint and leave him in peace, but another part of him desperately needed to talk to someone. He needed to talk to someone who wasn't Tamara, and that he could trust not to tell her what he'd said. Deep inside him, gnawing away at his stomach, was a terrible fear that Tamara would leave him when she found out the revolting truth about him. And even if she didn't do that, he didn't want her to start looking at him differently. What if she saw him as some pathetic weakling, or something disgusting that she couldn't bring herself to touch again? What if she finally saw how worthless he really was?

He needed Tamara, and that tiny little baby, more than anything else in the world, and he wasn't ready to take the risk of losing them. He gave a shuddering sigh and crawled across the bathroom floor to unlock the door. Phoebe heard the click and opened the door slowly, looking down at him in shock. He really didn't look well.

"What's wrong, Kyle?" she asked, crouching down to his level. "Is it something you ate? I didn't think you'd drunk that much?!"

His chin began to tremble and his eyes filled up with tears.

"Can you lock the door, Pheebs?" he whispered, as he pulled himself over to the shower cubicle and leaned his back against it.

He hugged his arms around his knees, the way he'd done when he was younger, and gave in to his need to cry. Tears were streaming down his face now, and his whole body was shaking. Phoebe had never seen him this way and she couldn't hide the shock on her face.

"I need someone to talk to." he said in a hushed tone for fear of anyone else hearing. Then he hid his face in his knees and began to quietly sob.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 **i.**

"Please don't tell anyone" begged Kyle, breaking the silence and wiping angrily at his tears with the heel of his hand, "Please Pheebs… I can't have anyone knowing about this… Not even Tam."

"I won't tell anyone" she assured him, "I won't."

They sat side by side, resting their backs against the shower cubicle, and he had his head on her shoulder. She really didn't know what to say to him, other than 'sorry' and that it 'wasn't his fault'. Those old clichés. What could she say that would make any of this any better? She'd taken his hand, while he was talking before, and started stroking the skin between his thumb and forefinger with small circular movements of her own thumb. She hoped that it might be helping to soothe him in some way, but she doubted it. He was still softly sobbing, and his body gave a shudder every now and then, as they sat there in silence.

She could hear the party still going on outside and worried that someone would come to use the toilet soon. She knew that Kyle was in no shape to face anyone out there, and she wanted more than anything to protect him, and stop anyone from asking him questions that he wasn't ready to answer. Someone needed to look out for him.

She glanced sideways at his pain-ridden face, all puffy and tear-stained, and her heart truly ached for him. He just looked so small and vulnerable. She was still in shock. He had just put some truly terrible images in her head and she feared that she might never be able to get them out again. It made her feel sick to her stomach to think of what he'd been through. Poor Kyle! She looked at him and she wondered what he'd looked like as a child when these terrible things had been happening to him. On second thoughts, she was glad that she didn't know. She didn't really want to be able to picture him being hurt like that. As she looked at him now, she wished that there was some way to go back in time and change things for him. She wanted so badly for this not to have happened to him.

So many things suddenly made sense! He'd always been so closed when they were together, so angry and defensive, and in the end, it had gone a long way to causing their break up. She'd never been able to get him to talk to her about his childhood and she'd always felt that he was holding a lot of himself back. Being with someone but not knowing anything about their background meant that you were always being kept at arm's length. She just wished that he would have opened up to her earlier. Maybe it would have saved their relationship.

"What are you gonna do about Melbourne?" she asked a little cautiously as she turned to look at him. She tilted her head at him and gave him as reassuring a smile as she could manage. "I'll come with you if you want?" she said, giving his hand a little squeeze.

"I'm not going!" he blurted out, eyes wide with fear as he let go of her hand. "I can't! I'm not doing that!"

He started to clamber to his feet and looked in the mirror at his red and puffy complexion. ' _Fuck! …Just man up!'_ he silently scolded himself, as he turned the tap on and threw cold water in his face.

He was hoping that it might make him look vaguely presentable and that he could still go back out there without people knowing. But looking in the mirror, he could see that that wouldn't be possible. His eyes were red and bloodshot and his face was terribly blotchy. People would take one look at him and know that he'd been crying. And he couldn't take people asking him what was wrong. He'd have to get out of the house for a while, somehow.

"I have to get out!" he said, breathing a little too heavily again.

"Kyle, wait" she said, now on her feet and looking at him in the mirror, "We can…"

"I have to go!" he repeated a little breathlessly. He spun around to face her. "Can you tell Tamara that an alarm went off at Angelo's and I've gone to sort it out?"

"Uh" said Phoebe, but before she got a chance to answer, he'd opened the door and charged through the hallway towards the front door. He ran past the guests, shielding his face with his hand as best he could.

Phoebe, leaned with her back against the sink, breathing out a shuddering sigh. She'd been trying not to show Kyle how much his story had affected her, but now that he was gone, her eyes filled up with tears and she began to sob. Poor Kyle! She just couldn't get it out of her head! How could he have hidden this from everyone for so long?! He must have been hurting so much! She hated that he'd had to deal with this all on his own.

She ran her fingers through her hair and turned to check her makeup in the mirror. She gave a nervous laugh out of shock, when she saw how much her mascara had run, and she began to wipe at her puffy panda eyes frantically in the mirror. She knew that she needed to hide this, for Kyle's sake, more than her own.

"Pheebs?" said Ash, standing in the open doorway and looking at her with concern.

He'd just seen Kyle run out the door, with his face all puffy and red as though he'd been crying, and now here was Phoebe, clearly very upset too. He wasn't sure what to make of it. He'd noticed that they'd gone missing some time ago, and he'd been trying to extricate himself from a conversation with Marilyn, to go and check where they were, but that woman just wouldn't shut up! His every instinct had been telling him that Phoebe was cheating on him with Kyle, but seeing her upset like this, he wondered now if Kyle had done something to hurt her. Why had they been in the bathroom together?!

"What did he do?!" growled Ash, jumping to completely the wrong conclusion. "If he's hurt you…"

She spun around and looked at him in shock.

"Kyle didn't do anything!" she snapped at him.

She could see that he was a little hurt, and she felt bad, so she smiled a little and gave him an apologetic look. She walked over to him and put her arms around him, leaning her head against his chest as she began to cry again.

"Sorry… Can you just hold me… please Ash?" she asked, looking up at him all teary eyed and clearly shaking. "I just really need a hug."

He looked at her tear-stained face and a rage began to build inside him. He was sure now that Kyle had hurt her. She just seemed so shaken and upset, and the way she was clinging to him was very out of character. Phoebe didn't cry that easily, so he figured that something big must have happened in here to freak her out so much. A thought began to take shape, growing into more and more of a certainty in his mind, that Kyle had forced himself on her. He held her tightly in his arms with his chin resting on the top of her head, and decided that as soon as Phoebe was feeling a little better, he was going after Kyle. He was going to find him and kill him with his bare hands.

After a few minutes, he pulled away from her, and gently lifted her chin so he could look at her face again.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, with love and concern in his eyes.

He really hoped it wasn't true.

"I can go and get Nate…" he offered in a worried way, as he wiped gently at the tears on her face with his thumbs. Then he lowered his voice to not much more than a whisper, and said, "Or Hannah… if you want… y'know… a _woman_?"

Phoebe furrowed her brow at him and pulled away from him a little violently.

"I told you, Ash! Kyle didn't do anything to hurt me! He would never hurt me!"

She was angry now, partly at Ash for being such a Neanderthal, and partly at the injustice of this whole thing. If she was honest with herself, she was mostly angry that Kyle had had such a terrible childhood, and that people had done such appalling things to a person that she truly loved and cared about. She hated this ugly world sometimes.

She knew that she shouldn't be taking her anger out on Ash, but in this moment, there was a fury burning inside her and she needed to let it out. He just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time…

"That's what it always comes down to with you, doesn't it?!" she shouted at him. "Sex! It's always about sex with you! And ownership!"

"What?! But… but... I…" he stammered, "Pheebs?"

"You know what, Ash?! Some people have _real_ problems!" she shouted at him, "Some people are going through terrible things… just… terrible things! …Things that no-one should ever have to deal with!"

She narrowed her eyes at him and shoved him hard in the middle of the chest.

"But you wouldn't understand that, would you?!"

She stormed past him out into the hallway, and out the front door, forgetting that she was supposed to cover for Kyle with Tamara. She needed to find him.

Ash watched her go with a hurt and confused expression on his face. He didn't understand what had just happened. All he'd been trying to do was protect her. He ran what she'd just said over in his head, and he felt his stomach begin to churn, as he landed on one particular sentence _. 'People are going through terrible things'_? He wondered if she meant Kyle or herself.

What if Phoebe was ill? Maybe that's why Kyle had been so upset. He felt hurt that she would confide in Kyle, and not him, if that were the case. But mostly he was just worried now. He tried to think if there had been signs that he had missed in the last few weeks that would point to her being unwell. She'd complained of a headache a few nights before, and a stomach ache a few days before that, so his mind took him down all sorts of frightening avenues. What if Phoebe was really sick? What if she was dying?!

Andy walked out to the hallway and found Ash standing there, white as a sheet, and looking thoroughly dazed.

"Mate, you right?!" asked Andy, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder and tilting his head at him in concern. "You don't look too good!"

"Gotta go!" said Ash, suddenly coming back to his senses and racing out the door.

He needed answers and he wasn't going to get them standing there in that hallway. Andy watched him leave and shook his head knowingly. That was the third person he'd seen race out that door in the last ten minutes. Something was obviously kicking off. He sighed and wondered what dramas were about to unfold now. _'Why couldn't people, including himself, just keep it in their pants?'_ he thought to himself with a wry smile, as he headed to the bathroom.

 **ii.**

Kyle sat huddled in the scrubby sand dunes just above the beach, hugging his arms around his knees, as he stared out into the distance at the blackened water. The moonlight was giving the water a blue sheen, and everything looked so peaceful… In sharp contrast to the utter turmoil in his head.

He wondered what the police in Melbourne wanted to speak to him about. He didn't think that he'd be able to tell them anything useful. Nothing that they didn't already know.

A cursory glance at the basement he'd lived in would have told them what kind of place it was. The rooms upstairs, with the recording and lighting equipment, would have answered any other questions that they might have had. The stacks of video tapes and DVDs, and folders upon folders of photos, lining the walls of the main bedroom, would have wiped away any remaining doubts. The house would speak for itself. The walls would echo with the misery and the suffering of all the children that had passed through its doors over the years. Its foundations were soaked in the blood and the tears of young and vulnerable children. And it appeared now that it had even served as a graveyard for a great many of them. They couldn't look at that property and not have a pretty clear idea of how things had been. What did they need him for?!

He couldn't face talking to the police about it. He couldn't face the thought of having to answer their questions, and having to talk about the things that had gone on within those walls. He didn't think that he'd be able to get the words out, even if he wanted to.

He'd spent years trying to forget the fact that that place even existed. Tonight, had been the first time that he'd spoken to anyone about it, and putting it into words had been more painful than he'd ever imagined. The shame that he felt had been overwhelming.

He'd thought that talking to Phoebe might help, but it had just made him feel so much worse, and he wished now that he could go back in time about an hour, and zip his own mouth closed. Phoebe had been kind and sympathetic, but he could see from the way that she'd looked at him after, that something had changed forever, and their relationship would never be the same again.

She would always see him as a victim now, and that wasn't the way that he wanted to be seen. He couldn't stand to see the look of pity in her eyes, but even that hadn't been the worst thing. He'd seen the disgust there too. The utter revulsion on her face when he'd told her what happened. He'd been very economical with the truth, shielding her from the gorier details, but even so, she'd obviously been ashamed of him. Disgusted at the thought of the things he'd had to do. He couldn't blame her for reacting that way. He was ashamed of himself after all, why should she be any different?! He'd obviously been right not to tell Tamara.

But what about the cops?! They'd want to know everything! If he couldn't talk to one of his oldest friends about it, how was he meant to talk to total strangers?! The thought of police officers listening to those details, and judging him, and pitying him… It made him feel sick to his stomach. It was nobody else's business but his, and he was going to take what he knew to the grave with him. It wasn't like he could help anyone anyway.

He didn't even know where the house was! He'd never been back there, and he didn't think he'd even been outside until the day that they'd come to take him away. That had been the most terrifying experience of his entire life… and that was really saying something! Thinking back on it now, it felt like being abducted by aliens.

Simon had dragged him upstairs into the blinding light of day, something that he wasn't used to at all, and handed him over to total strangers. The car that they'd taken him away in might as well have been an alien spacecraft. He couldn't remember ever having been in one before. The blur outside the window, and the unfamiliar motion of the car, had caused such intense nausea that he'd vomited all over the woman sitting beside him. Repeatedly.

That house that they were showing on the news now, had been the only thing that he'd ever known, or that he could remember, but he didn't think he'd ever seen it from the outside until that day.

To be ripped away from everything that he knew, however bad it was, had felt like the worst thing to ever happen to him. Like a bereavement. He'd suddenly been dragged out into a world so vast that he couldn't begin to comprehend its size. There were no walls, no ceiling, and it was far too bright! Distances seemed so huge, and there were so many people everywhere, and everything was moving at enormous speed. It was nothing short of terrifying.

He'd looked at the people in the car, feeling almost certain that they were going to kill him. Kids had disappeared from the house all the time. One day they were there, and the next they weren't. He'd felt sure that this must be what had happened to them. People had just come and taken them away, and they'd never got to come back again.

He'd pulled his feet up onto the seat and hugged his arms around his knees. He'd had so many questions but he'd lacked the courage to ask them. He'd learnt that silence was always safer. Adults were depraved, scary, volatile creatures, who would often strike out without warning. It was better to stay quiet and do what he was told. And Simon had told him in no uncertain terms to keep his mouth shut. If they were going to kill him, then they were going to kill him, and there was nothing that he could do about it.

Still, so many questions whirred around his head with nowhere to go…

' _Where were the walls? Where was his cell? Where was the basement that he'd called home for as long as he could remember? Who were these strange people, and what new tortures lay in wait for him in this enormous and scary world? If they were going to kill him, how were they going to do it… and was it going to hurt?'_

That was the last time that he'd ever seen that house or anyone in it. He'd been loaded in a car and taken away, and that place that he'd called home, had gradually become a distant memory that he'd buried deep within himself. He'd tried to bury the memories too. The smells and sounds and sensations of that house of horrors. The pain. He'd tried with everything he had to erase it, but it had always been there, lurking in the background and festering like some sort of cancer in the back of his mind. Just waiting to strike.

Now all it had taken was one stupid news report to unearth it and bring it all back to him in vivid detail. With that police investigation underway, he was fairly sure that it wouldn't be long before they tracked him down. What was he going to do then?

 **iii.**

"Kyle Braxton!" said Alf, standing over him as he blinked in the bright sunshine.

He was carrying his fishing gear and was on his way to his favourite spot when he'd spotted a body lying in the dunes.

"What's a respected businessman like you doing sleeping on the beach?!" asked Alf, in a teasing tone. "Bit too much to drink last night, eh?"

He reached out a hand to Kyle and pulled him to his feet, dusting the sand off his back in an affectionate sort of way.

"Well, I'd be lying if I said that we hadn't all been there!" he chuckled.

"Thanks Alf" said Kyle, hiding his discomfort as best as he could, and pretending to be hungover for effect.

He dusted down his clothes and squinted at the watch on his wrist.

"Oh God! Alf! Tamara's gonna kill me!" he said, taking off across the sand as fast as he could go.

Alf watched him run, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at him.

"I'd get a move on, young fella!" he shouted after him. "Ailsa would have had my guts for garters!" he chuckled to himself as he went on his way.

 **iv**.

"Oh, my God, Kyle!" exclaimed Tamara, as she held a screaming Noah in her arms and tried to manage a phone call at the same time. "It's okay, Pheebs. He's back… okay, bye" she said, dropping the phone on the couch.

She looked at him with concern.

"Kyle, are you okay?! What happened?! Do you have any idea how worried I've been?!"

"Sorry" said Kyle, fighting back the urge to start crying again. "I didn't mean to frighten you, Tam… Really, I'm so sorry!"

He came across the room and kissed her on the forehead, gently lifting Noah out of her arms, and placing him on his chest.

"Hey, c'mon little man… what's all this crying about?" he said to the tiny baby in his arms as he gently swayed him to and fro.

"Kyle…" said Tamara, as her big brown eyes filled with tears, "I don't know what's going on with you… First the nightmare, and then the panic attack… and now you disappear overnight… Is it the baby? Are you having second thoughts or something? I mean… Is it too much responsibility?!"

She wiped at her tears with the back of her hand and looked up at him with eyes full of hurt.

He looked at her in shock.

"How could you even think that?!" he asked, feeling like he was under attack. "Noah means everything to me!" he said, looking at his baby's fragile little body in his pale blue grow suit.

"What is it then, Kyle?" she asked, slumping on the arm of the couch in a defeated sort of way. "Please, baby, I love you, but I just feel like you won't let me in… Sometimes I feel like I don't really know who you are…" She tapped the side of her head with her index finger, "Not really… not in here".

He turned away from her, cradling their baby in his arms, and blinked back the wave of tears that was threatening to break… Looking at his baby boy, he knew that Noah deserved parents with a strong marriage. He wanted him to have the perfect family life that you only see on TV. If he was going to come anywhere close to having that, then something was going to have to give. He was going to have to let Tamara in, even if it terrified him. What kind of marriage would it be if he couldn't trust her? He couldn't continue to hold her at arm's length for the rest of their lives and expect for them to have a strong relationship. He was frightened to lose her but a relationship built on lies and omissions wasn't much of a relationship at all.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to quell the rising wave of anxiety in his chest. This was it. He was going to have to do it. He was going to have to tell Tamara…


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 **i.**

Ash sat on the edge of the bed, and stared at the floor with a slightly dazed expression, wondering what to say. He was in shock. He didn't know how he was going to face Kyle the next time he saw him, knowing now what he knew. He wished that Phoebe hadn't told him. He knew that he was a pretty rubbish liar, and he really wasn't good at controlling his facial expressions. Billie always joked that he'd make a terrible poker player and he knew that she was right. He knew that he was going to give himself away, and he didn't want Kyle to feel betrayed, mainly for Phoebe's sake.

"I don't know what to say" said Ash, glancing across at Phoebe, who was sitting cross legged on the bed and sniffling badly. "The poor guy…" he said, shaking his head sadly.

"I shouldn't have told you!" said Phoebe.

She shook her head at herself angrily and wiped at her tears with her sleeve. She was annoyed with herself for betraying Kyle's trust, but she'd been arguing with Ash and it had just slipped out.

"Kyle told me that in confidence" she said, "…and I shouldn't have told anyone! You can't let him know that you know! I mean it, Ash, please don't say anything to anyone!"

"What's he going to do?" asked Ash, "I mean… about the police in Melbourne?"

He'd been watching all the news coverage for the last few weeks and knew most of the gory details. Everyone did. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like to live through an ordeal like that. Kyle seemed so normal. Part of him wasn't sure that he believed him.

"He says he's not going" said Phoebe, "He can't face it."

She didn't blame him for not wanting to go there. She'd seen how difficult it was for him to tell her, and she hadn't pushed him for more details, or poked and prodded at him like the police would. She wasn't sure that he'd cope with a police interview.

"So, what?! He's just gonna let those sickos get away with it?!" exclaimed Ash.

He was feeling angry on Kyle's behalf. If it was true, he thought that he needed to come forward and speak to the police, whether he liked it or not. Those animals were out there somewhere, maybe hurting more kids, and maybe Kyle could help the police to track them down.

"It's his choice!" said Phoebe, sounding a little panicked.

She crawled across the bed and put her arms around his neck.

"Please, Ash!" she pleaded, "He can't know that I told you! It wasn't my secret to tell…"

She leaned in against him from behind, with her arms stretched around him, and rested her head on his shoulder. She thought about how long he'd kept Brax's secret to himself, and how he hadn't even told her when she'd pushed him for answers. Not for a while anyway. He'd kept that secret for months and months in the most difficult of circumstances, and she hadn't even lasted a full day! She felt a pang of guilt when she thought how scared Kyle had been to tell her, and how much he'd begged her not to tell anyone. Now she'd gone and told Ash. If Kyle found out, she knew that he'd never forgive her, and he'd be right not to.

"I'm a really bad friend" she muttered, "Aren't I?!"

 **ii.**

Tamara glanced at Kyle and bit her lip a little nervously. He'd been holding on to her hand so tightly since they'd started watching the news coverage that her fingers had gradually gone numb, but she didn't have the heart to pull her hand away, no matter how much it hurt. He needed her.

"… _the police hunt for Simon and Jessica Hames continues, after initial leads in the case have proved to a be a hoax."_

The images of two relatively pleasant looking people, if incredibly dated in their choice of clothing, flashed up on the screen.

In the photo, Simon had mousy brown hair that was going grey, and a moustache that had gone out of fashion back in the eighties, along with a pair of rectangular wire frame glasses. He wore a grey knit sweater, with a white shirt and maroon tie underneath, looking as though his mother had just dressed him for church.

Jessica was smiling sweetly into the camera with her lips painted in that pearlescent pink lipstick that was so popular in the eighties. She had her hair bleached a peroxide blonde, where you could just see the dark roots beginning to re-emerge, and it was set in a sort of flicked out perm. She had a mustard coloured blouse on and she was wearing a large gold bangle on her wrist.

It was clearly a professional portrait taken some time ago, and it could easily have been any nice middle-class couple, and not the monsters that Kyle knew them to be. They looked every bit the happy respectable couple that you wouldn't mind living next door to.

Kyle remembered them all too well, and he knew that they didn't look anything like that in real life. Not behind closed doors, anyway. They'd always been well presented, when they went to church or community events, putting on a façade of respectability for the local community, but inside the house they'd been very different. He'd never met two people with more cruelty and evil in their eyes.

His blood ran cold just to look at them. Having to see their faces again after all this time was making him feel panicky and nauseous, and he thought that he might throw up.

" _Exhumations have now concluded at the Hames' residence and police have confirmed this afternoon that the number of bodies recovered from the property has risen to fourteen. Among those, a number of very young infants. No details regarding their identities have yet been released._

 _The house appears rather grand and well maintained from the outside, but has for many years concealed an interior that can only be described as a house of horrors…"_

Kyle let out a gasp and gripped Tamara's hand so hard that she thought he might break her fingers. They had just cut from the newsreader in the studio to video footage of the basement of the house.

He hadn't seen that place in thirteen years, but seeing it again now, he was suddenly overwhelmed with long suppressed memories of smells and sounds and sensations, so vivid that he felt like his head was spinning. Some memories he could still physically feel. His heart was thumping ferociously now and he felt like he was slowly suffocating.

The camera swept through the basement, lighting the way with the bright torchlight on the top, illuminating small kennel-like rooms with bolt-able doors and unlocked padlocks. They had concrete floors and were about 4ft wide. Children's shabby clothing littered the floor, as well as filthy plastic buckets. The place looked such a sad and squalid place for any creature to have to live, and emanated a misery that most people could never imagine.

Kyle could remember it only too well. The cold and damp in the winter had been unbearable at times, made all the worse by the muffled cries of other children, all isolated in the darkness. He didn't know how he'd survived it.

" _The basement is made up of what appear to be numerous dark and dingy cells, where it seems children have been living and sleeping for many years. The raid on the property found four young children living in squalid conditions and sleeping on bare floors, with no blankets or any type of bedding. Their identities are as yet unknown._

 _Based on materials discovered on the premises at the time of the raid, it is believed that Mr and Mrs Hames may have been operating as part of a paedophile ring for upwards of twenty years. Police are concerned for the whereabouts of a number of individuals and are again appealing for anyone that may have spent time as a child in the Hames' household, to please get in touch with Melbourne police urgently..."_

Kyle got up and began pacing the room, trying to get his breathing under control. He clasped his hands at the back of his head, closing his eyes and blowing out a big breath as slowly as he could manage, in the hope that it might help to slow his heartrate a little. He'd thought that maybe confronting it might help, but this had all been too much, too soon.

Suddenly he felt Tamara's arms around his waist and it made him jump a mile high.

"Jesus, Tam!" he exclaimed angrily.

The look of hurt on her face made him feel bad though, so he put his arms around her, and gave her an apologetic look.

"Sorry, Tam… I'm just a bit jumpy." he said.

She looked up at him with puffy tear-filled eyes and her chin trembled as she tried not to cry.

"I can't believe that that's where they kept you, Kyle! …That's where you lived?! When you were just a little boy?!"

"Home sweet home." he said in a sarcastic tone and nodded sadly.

He pulled her into a hug again and rested his chin on top of her head. She could hear how fast his heart was beating now, even if he was doing his best to hide it.

She still couldn't really comprehend it. She didn't understand how he could have kept this to himself for so long and how he'd ended up so 'normal'. How could anyone live a life like that and not have serious issues?!

Although he hadn't always been so normal, she thought to herself. He had tried to kill Casey, once upon a time, and he'd even threatened _her_. He'd seemed thoroughly unhinged back then, and she'd been scared of him. Of course, that guy in the desert wasn't the real Kyle. Everyone knew that now! They'd put it down as a mental breakdown, over the loss of his father, and even Casey had forgiven him in the end. But looking at him now, and knowing where he'd come from, she had even more sympathy for him. It helped to explain a little more why he'd done what he'd done. Everyone has their breaking point!

She glanced at the screen again and gave a little shudder. That dark dank place just looked so horrible!

"And they kept you down there?" she asked, "Like a prisoner?! Locked up in the dark?!"

"I liked it better down there" he mumbled, as memories of frightening bright lights flashed through his mind. "It was better than upstairs… Believe me."

He couldn't help shuddering at the unpleasant memories that were now flooding back uninvited. He felt physically sick at the thought of walking up those stairs.

"How did you get away?" she asked, a little cautiously.

She knew that telling her yesterday had been a huge ordeal for him, and she'd worried last night that he might never stop crying. It had been like a floodgate had suddenly opened, and all the pain and hurt that he'd been bottling up for years had suddenly come bubbling to the surface. He'd seemed so totally broken.

She'd always wanted to know about his childhood, but she'd never imagined anything like this, and she'd ended up getting a lot more than she'd ever bargained for. The pain and suffering that he had endured in his life was unimaginable to her. She struggled to know what to say to him, but she was doing her best. She'd held him all through the night last night, cradling him in her arms, but he'd been very quiet and withdrawn this morning. He'd really only started to talk to her again this afternoon. He was clearly hurting, and she didn't want to push him too much.

"DoCS came and got me" he said quietly, "Just turned up one day and took me away."

He let her go, and threw himself on the sofa in exhaustion. It was so hard talking about this stuff and he knew that this was only going to the be the start of it. Now that he'd let the cat out of the bag, Tamara would have endless questions, and he wasn't sure that he could deal with having to answer them. Phoebe would be a nightmare to deal with too.

He pulled his feet onto the couch and put his arms around his knees. He didn't really know what had happened to make DoCS come and get him… not for sure anyway. He really only knew what he'd been told when he'd started digging into his past in the years that followed. But there were big gaping holes in his records and things that simply didn't make sense. So many questions didn't have an answer. For years, he hadn't even asked the questions.

Life had just changed for him overnight, without explanation.

Suddenly people wanted him to talk, instead of staying silent, but he'd been trained for years to keep his mouth shut. They wanted him to sleep upstairs in a bed, but he knew that that wasn't what beds were for! They wanted him to wash all the time, but no-one forced him to do it, or scrubbed him roughly the way that they used to. Or even made him do that _other thing_. They asked him questions and wanted him to make decisions. They asked him his opinion, as though what _he_ said mattered. They encouraged him to eat, and didn't use the threat of starvation as a way to control him. Doors weren't locked, and he could go where he wanted, when he wanted. Even outside!

Everything that he'd ever known had been turned on its head. But that frightened him...

And then there was David and Jenny. It had taken him a very long time to understand that they didn't want him to do any of that ' _stuff'_ anymore. He'd assumed that that's what all adults wanted. It had been true of every adult that he'd ever met before.

He didn't understand what the new rules were! He didn't know what they wanted from him and it made him anxious.

More than anything though, he just didn't trust them, especially after seeing David's cameras in the house! He hadn't understood that they were simply tools of his trade as a photographer. Rather, he'd taken it as proof that he was just like Simon. A wolf in sheep's clothing... just biding his time. He was going to hurt him too!

He'd been convinced that sooner or later he'd be dragged out of bed in the middle of the night, to a room full of strange men, and made to do things that he didn't like. Things that _hurt._ He'd resigned himself to it and was simply waiting for it to happen.

Not knowing _when_ it was going to happen had nearly been worse though, because he'd always been on edge. Not able to sleep. Watching David like a hawk for those lascivious glances that he'd always recognised in the eyes of all the other men. Over-reacting to every little touch and reading too much into everything that he said. Just waiting and waiting and waiting...

But that night never came…

As time had gone on he'd come to realise that he was finally safe, and he'd gradually become a little more curious as to what had actually happened that day. What had led to him being rescued from the mouths of wolves, to being placed with kind and gentle people like the Summers? Why _had_ DoCS come to get him?

When he was sixteen he made an appointment with his case worker and asked to see his full case file.

"My case worker told me that dad's sister had been campaigning for a while to get custody of me" he said, "…and she finally got some judge to grant her trial custody… That's when they came to get me…"

"I didn't know you had an aunt" said Tamara.

He just shrugged and frowned down at the floor.

"Yeah… well… apparently when she finally had me, I wouldn't talk to her" He gave a sad little huff. "I guess… I guess she thought I was more trouble than I was worth… so she dumped me back in the system…"

"Kyle, that's awful!" said Tamara, slipping back into the seat beside him and taking his hand again. "I can't believe she'd just abandon you like that!"

He shrugged again but kept his eyes fixed on the floor.

"I don't blame her." he said, with a heavy sigh, "I guess I was pretty messed up… and she didn't know how to deal with me… I didn't really understand who she was and I didn't trust her… I don't think I said a word to her the whole time I stayed there… so I don't really blame her at all…"

"Yeah" frowned Tamara, "But you were her nephew!"

He stared at the floor in a dazed sort of way, thinking about the bodies of the children that they'd discovered at the house.

"She did get me out of there…" he said quietly, "So, I reckon I owe her my life."

He realised now that his silence had allowed so many more children to be hurt, and he wondered if he could have prevented it. His stomach began to tie itself in knots.

"Maybe I'd be buried in that garden if she hadn't?" he said, "They'd be digging up my bones right now."

"Oh baby!" moaned Tamara, as she leaned in to hug him and put her head against his chest, "Don't even say that!"

He smiled a little half-heartedly and hugged her to him. He was trying to calm himself down but a thought just kept repeating itself in his head. _'Maybe if I'd spoken up sooner, some of those kids wouldn't have been killed._ '

He thought about the four children that they'd found living in the basement, when they'd raided the house, and wondered if they'd blame him. Would they be angry at him for staying quiet? He was the only one that could have put a stop to it. He was the only one that got away! Why hadn't he ever gone to the authorities about it, and got them to look for that house?! Why had he never told the Summers about it?! Why had he been such a coward?!

Deep inside him, he'd known that other children were bound to be suffering his same fate, but he'd felt powerless to do anything. He'd pushed it away and just tried to move on. When it came down to it, he'd never really stopped being that mute child. He'd been too afraid to open his mouth and tell people what had happened. Too afraid to speak up. Admitting it to himself had been hard enough!

How many children had suffered over the last thirteen years because he'd stayed silent?! All of this was his fault!

 **iii.**

Kat walked in the door carrying a pizza from Angelo's, and started to head straight down the hallway, having decided to bypass the living-room and go eat on her bed. She was tired from a long day at work and all she wanted was to get into her pyjamas and veg out for the rest of the evening. She hoped that Ash and Phoebe wouldn't be fighting again this evening. She was sick of hearing all the shouting. Couldn't they just get along for one night?!

She'd just passed the living-room door when she heard Ash call her name. She rolled her eyes and gave a heavy sigh. She just wanted to go to her room! She took a few steps back and peeked in the door of the living-room expecting to see Phoebe and Ash on the couch. She was surprised to see Ash lying on the sofa with a bottle of beer in his hand, and no sign of Phoebe anywhere.

"Yep?" she said, leaning against the doorframe and giving him a warm smile.

"Hey!" said Ash, looking bleary-eyed and grinning for ear to ear.

She figured that he must have been drinking for a while, given the graveyard of beer bottles arranged on the coffee table, and the sleepy expression on his face.

"Want a beer?" he asked, holding one of the bottles out to her and waving it slightly back and forth in a way that was supposed to be enticing.

She glanced down the hall towards her room and thought how nice it would be to just slip into bed and forget about this crappy day, but then she looked at Ash, and she couldn't help smiling. He was an idiot sometimes, but she liked him, and she enjoyed his company even when he was drunk.

"Yeah, go on then" she said, throwing herself into the armchair beside him and chucking her feet up on the coffee table. She was still wearing her work boots but she didn't think that Ash would mind somehow. She opened her box of pizza and smiled at him when she saw him eyeing her pepperoni pizza hungrily.

"Want a slice?" she asked.

They sat in comfortable silence munching their way through her pizza and drinking beer, and she thought that Phoebe was a lucky girl to have Ash in her life. He was so easy to be around.

"Where's Pheebs?" she asked, looking around the room as though she might be hiding somewhere.

"Gone to see Kyle" he slurred, frowning a little and lying back on the couch with his eyes closed. "She's over there being his shoulder to cry on…"

Ash was clearly pretty drunk and she could see that he was close to nodding off. She leaned over and took the bottle out of his hand, thinking that he'd spill it if she left him with it.

"What's wrong with Kyle?" she asked, vaguely curious. She thought that he'd been acting a little strangely at the party the other night.

Ash rolled over on the couch and drew his knees up into a foetal position to go to sleep. He mumbled something that she couldn't quite hear, and she strained her ears to make him out. Her eyes widened as one word jumped out at her. The only word that she could make out was 'paedophile'. Kneeling down beside him, she shook his shoulder.

"Ash?!" she asked, "What's wrong with Kyle?!"


	9. Chapter 9

**So, here's Chapter 9. Bit nervous about this one. It's all getting a bit darker now, as Kyle's flashbacks continue... you've been warned.**

 **Again, any feedback would be very much appreciated.**

 **ADULT THEMES!**

 **Chapter 9**

 **i.**

"I need to speak to the detective in charge of the Hames investigation" said Kat.

She was speaking on the phone while scrolling through the limited available details on one of the station computers. There wasn't a great deal of information available to her on the system without further authorisation. Most of what she knew, she'd gleaned from Google.

She'd been shocked when Ash had told her that Kyle was one of the victims in this horrific case of child abuse. That night, she'd spent hours poring over news stories in her room, and trawling through one awful report after another. As a clearer and clearer picture formed, she was feeling more and more sorry for Kyle. The basement photos, full of dark and squalid cells, were truly shocking. No child should ever have had to live through something like that.

She felt terribly sad. To think that someone that she knew personally had been hurt in this way was just awful. What terrible things must have happened to him!

"Okay…" said Kat, "Well, I have some information for him, regarding one of the victims, and I'd appreciate it if he could give me a call back… Yes, that's right, Constable Katarina Chapman, Yabbie Creek Police" .

She put down the phone and sat back in her chair with a heavy sigh. She thought about Kyle's sometimes volatile temper, and numerous run-ins with the law in the past, and somehow things made a bit more sense to her now.

Kyle had always been a bit of a troubled soul, and if what Ash had said was true, then there was certainly a reasonable explanation for it. Looking at his file, she could see now that he was very easily led, which fit the profile of someone with a background of physical and sexual abuse. It looked like all of the things he'd done had been out of some misguided loyalty to either his father or his brothers, and what seemed like a desperate need to be part of a family. He'd just been unfortunate that that family had been the Braxtons.

Without his brothers to steer him wrong in recent times, he'd become a very different man. He'd settled down a lot, keeping out of trouble since Brax had died, and getting together with Tamara had turned him into every inch the family man. He'd been beaming with excitement over the impending arrival of his baby and she'd never seen anyone more devoted to his wife.

When she thought about the Kyle Braxton that she'd met a few years ago, and what she'd thought of him then, she was genuinely surprised at how much he'd gone up in her estimation, especially over the last year. She actually thought of him as a friend now. To find out that he'd been abused in this way was not only shocking, it actually hurt her to think about it, and she wanted to reach out to him and offer him her support.

First things first though. She wanted to find out what the Melbourne police wanted from him and whether, from a police point of view, she needed to do anything. Knowing what she knew now, and how closed Kyle was as a person, she wasn't sure that he'd cope with police questioning. She thought that maybe she could find out what they wanted, and if it was only an interview, then maybe she could conduct it herself. Maybe that would be less traumatic for him?

 **ii.**

 _Kyle woke with a start to the loud crash on the floorboards above his head. Something very heavy had fallen to the floor with great force and broken. it sounded almost like it would come through the floorboards and crush him. His heart began to race as he wondered what was going on._

 _He'd fallen asleep eventually, despite the raging hunger in his stomach, and the chill rising from the damp floor that had had his teeth chattering most of the day. It was dark. There was no light coming in from under the door now, so he figured that it must be night-time. Normally they'd be coming to get him soon, but the argument that was going on upstairs told him that something was different tonight._

 _The shouting was getting louder and he strained to make out the words. Jessica was clearly furious about something, and Simon was shouting too, but he sounded more apologetic in his tone._

" _What are we going to do now?!" roared Jessica, and another loud crash followed._

 _He realised that she must have thrown something. He heard Simon reply but his voice was much quieter and he couldn't make him out. Jessica shouted again but this time it was too muffled and all he heard was "…such a mess!"_

 _He was incredibly frightened. Jessica and Simon didn't often fight like this, but the last time that they'd had a big argument no-one had come to unlock their cells or give them anything to eat for three whole days. He'd been sure that he was going to die in there. When they'd finally brought the food, he'd almost been too weak to eat it, and Jessica had forced some of it in his mouth, and nearly choked him to death._

 _He wondered if it was going to happen again._

 _On some level, he kind of hoped that it would. Being left in here to starve to death sometimes felt like it might be the better option. He fantasised about dying an awful lot of the time! Sometimes he tried to hold his breath, or strangle himself with his own hands. One time he'd even tried smacking his head off the wall, but all he'd succeeded in doing was giving himself a bruised forehead. None of it ever worked. He couldn't do it himself. He sometimes wished that one of the men would get carried away and do it for him. Just kill him! Even if it was by mistake._

 _He wanted it to stop! He wanted it all to stop, and to not be here anymore, so maybe dying wouldn't be so bad? He just wanted it to be over._

 _He shifted uncomfortably on the floor as he listened intently to the noise upstairs. He was still really hurting from last weekend, so he was holding onto the tiniest sliver of hope that he might get a break tonight. That Simon and Jessica might fight enough for tonight's session to be cancelled._

" _You shouldn't have done a foster!" bellowed Jessica, "How are we meant to explain that?!"_

 _Then there was an enormously loud thud directly above him, followed by growling noises and scuffling. He couldn't be sure, but he thought that maybe they were fighting and rolling about on the floor._

" _Stupid bitch!" grunted Simon, and lots of growling sounds followed._

 _After what seemed like an eternity, things began to quieten down, and the voices became a lot more muffled and moved away towards what he knew to be the living-room. He sat and waited, sure now that they would come to get him for the evening's entertainment. He shuddered at the thought, and pulled his knees in as tightly as he could against his chest, wishing he could just disappear or somehow cease to be._

 _~.~.~.~_

 _Suddenly his door flung open and Simon grabbed him by his hair and dragged him out of his cell on his knees. He'd been asleep but he wasn't sure for how long. He looked up, and saw through the bars on the half-windows up high that it was bright outside. He must have slept through the night?! They hadn't come for him!_

 _Simon liked to drag the kids about by their hair, enjoying their squeals, but Kyle wouldn't cry out at the pain and give him the satisfaction. He was pulled up onto his feet and dragged across the floor and up the stairs. It was blindingly bright up there for someone not used to seeing daylight, so he tried to shield his eyes with his hands and blinked to adjust them to the light. He was shoved into the living-room, towards Jessica and a man that he didn't know._

" _Well, do you think he'll do?" asked Simon._

 _Jessica grabbed Kyle's face and turned it roughly from side to side, staring at him intently._

" _What do you think?" said Simon, looking at the other man, "He's a bit small, isn't he?"_

 _The man looked the small boy up and down and gave a little smirk._

" _We don't have much of a choice, do we?" he said, with a look that said he wasn't best pleased, "Are you sure he won't talk?"_

 _Simon nodded at the man and grinned a sadistic smile. "This one hasn't made a peep in years." he said, with a forced sort of laugh._

 _Jessica gripped the back of Kyle's neck, digging her fingers into his flesh, and giving him a rough shake._

" _He won't if he knows what's good for him…" she sneered._

" _Good" said the man, "Can't have him running his mouth off…"_

" _Nah… well trained!" laughed Simon, as he pulled Kyle away from his wife again and held him in front of the other man, "He knows to keep his mouth shut." He gripped Kyle's face in his big calloused hand, and turned his face up towards the man. "That's right, isn't it, boy?!" he growled at him. When Kyle didn't respond, he shook him like a ragdoll. "Isn't it?!" he repeated through gritted teeth, "Answer me!"_

 _Kyle nodded but he kept his eyes fixed on the floor. He knew the drill. You didn't talk, even when specifically told to._

" _See?!" laughed Simon, "Not a peep!" With that, he ruffled Kyle's hair and shoved him towards Jessica. "S'pose you'd better get him cleaned up then." he said._

 _Jessica snorted a little, in a 'why do I have to do it?!' kind of way, but something in Simon's expression told her not to argue._

" _Fine!" she sighed._

 _With that, she took Kyle by the back of the neck again and steered him with an iron grip towards the bathroom. It was then that he really began to panic. His breath hitched in his chest and his legs felt like jelly. He hated when Jessica washed him. She was always much rougher than even Simon was, and seemed to take pleasure in hurting him._

 _She shoved him in through the door ahead of her and began to claw roughly at his clothing. She tore his t-shirt off him, hurting his ears as she pulled it over his head and then she ripped at his filthy little tracksuit bottoms. She scratched him with her fingernails, as she yanked them down over his narrow hips, and then she tore his underwear off as well. He just stood there, staring at the wall behind her, and tried desperately to go somewhere else in his head._

 _Shoving him inside the cubicle, she reached above him and turned the water on. Freezing cold water cascaded on top of his head, and he couldn't help letting out a shocked squeal. That made her smile. It was a cruel sadistic smile, so he closed his eyes, and tried to pretend that the water was warm. She scrubbed his skin raw under the cold water, making sure to remove any 'evidence', and got soap in his eyes when she washed his filthy hair._

 _When she was finished, she dragged him out, and dried him with a towel. Then she pointed to a pile of clothes for him to dress himself. Shivering and shaking, but feeling like his skin was on fire, he pulled on the new clothes. He was surprised at how much nicer they were than anything he'd ever had to wear before, but also that they were so big. They really didn't fit him well. She forced his feet into a pair of shoes that crushed his toes and tied his laces for him._

 _After that, she began to brush his hair, standing him in front of the mirror. He kept his eyes fixed to the floor. He didn't like to look at himself._

 _Suddenly he felt Simon's hand on his shoulder and he gave a startled jump. Simon leaned down beside him to look in the mirror and put his head right in against his. He could feel the stubble on the man's cheek and the heat of his damp breath in his ear as he spoke._

" _You know what happens to little boys who talk too much, don't you Kyle?" said Simon, sneering at him in the mirror. "You want to keep that pretty pink tongue of yours, don't you? You remember what happened to Tom, don't you?"_

 _Simon stuck out his tongue and dragged it slowly down the side of Kyle's cheek, never taking his eyes off him._ " _Yeah you do!" he laughed nastily, "You remember!"_

 _Kyle shuddered in disgust, literally squirming under the heat of the man's disgusting tongue._

" _See? Tom deserved what he got" said Simon, before dragging his tongue down the boy's bony cheek again. "Silly boy…" he continued, "Never knew when to shut up! Never could keep his mouth shut! …And that's not good for business, Kyle!" He seemed to emphasise that last word._

 _Jessica suddenly took hold of Kyle's wrists and twisted his arms up behind his back so he couldn't move. Not that he would have anyway. He couldn't help whimpering a little. It felt like his right arm was about to snap!_

 _Simon grabbed his face in one hand, and took hold of his nose in the other, blocking off his air supply._

" _You remember, don't you?!" continued Simon, as he was forced to open his mouth to breathe._

 _Simon let go of his chin, and in one swift movement, violently forced his fingers inside Kyle's small mouth. The man took hold of his tongue, viciously yanking it out, and then smirked at him in the mirror. Kyle's eyes were out on stalks and they'd already filled with tears. His little chest was heaving in and out at an alarming rate as he tried to breathe through his mouth and he trembled from fear and pain._

" _You listen to me!" snarled Simon, talking close to his ear, "If you ever tell anyone about me… or about Jess… Or even that you ever lived in this house… I promise you now, kid, I'll come and find you! I'll hunt you down… and I'll cut this tongue of yours out of your mouth! I'll cut it out, snip snip, and I'll feed it to you!"_

 _Simon let go of his nose but didn't release his tongue, and reached for a pair of scissors lying beside the sink. He held them up in front of the mirror and then closed them tentatively on Kyle's exposed tongue. The sharp blades were pressing into the flesh but not actually cutting yet._

 _Kyle really started to cry then. Tears flooding down his face and his little body shaking like crazy as he hyperventilated._

" _You got that?!" growled Simon, glaring at him in the mirror and holding the scissors there for another while just to frighten him that bit more. "Answer me!" he shouted at him, "You got that through your stupid little head?!"_

 _Kyle nodded, as best he could. He didn't want Simon to press down and cut his tongue off by accident._

" _Good!" laughed Simon, taking the scissors away and opening and closing them right in front of his face. Kyle was staring in the mirror in abject terror. "You remember what I've said" warned Simon, before plucking at the waistband of the boy's jeans, and indicating his crotch with a downward flick of his eyes. "You keep your mouth shut" he snarled in his ear, "Or that tongue of yours might not be the only thing I cut off!"_

 _Kyle collapsed to his knees when Simon finally released his tongue. He pulled it back into his mouth, painfully aware of muscles at the back of his mouth that he'd never really known existed. He clamped one hand across his mouth, and the other between his legs, as he stared up in fear at the adults above him._

" _Stop that crying!" snarled Jessica, aiming a swift kick to his side and then grabbing his hair to pull him onto his feet again, "And get your ass up!"_

 _Swamped in clothes that were far too big for him, he was led back into the living-room and shoved towards the man._

 _The man reached out his hand and nodded for Kyle to take it. Despite his shaking, he obediently took the hand that was offered to him, expecting to be led back towards one of the bedrooms. To his horror, he realised that they were heading for the front door!_

 _He began to drag his feet and pull away when they got closer to it. He was terrified, and his heart was beating faster now than he'd ever thought possible. The door opened, and a light, so bright it was hard for him to fathom, streamed in from outside._

 _He stopped short and the man began to pull on his hand a bit more insistently._

" _C'mon now, kid?!" the man said._

 _Kyle looked back at Jessica and Simon pleadingly and held on to the doorframe. He'd never been more terrified. The man put his arm around him and lifted him under his arm to carry him down the steps. Kyle began to scream and cry as he was carried out the door into blinding white light…_

 _~.~.~.~_

"Kyle! Kyle! It's just a nightmare!" cried Tamara.

He was huddled on the floor in the corner of their bedroom, with his hand clamped across his mouth, and he was staring like a madman in all directions. He was making the strangest noise she'd ever heard. It was more of a howl than anything. She tried to take his hand but he pulled it away and let out another anguished cry. Noah woke up and started to wail too.

"Kyle! Wake up, Kyle!" she shouted, as she frantically shook his shoulder. Suddenly, the vacancy in his eyes disappeared and he looked at her properly.

"Sorry!" he said, looking shocked and dazed, "Sorry, sorry, I... I..."

He was still breathing heavily, and his heart was thumping in his chest, but looking at Tamara's worried face, he felt ashamed and embarrassed.

"Sorry for frightening you" he said a little stiffly.

He pulled himself to his feet and moved across the room to sit on the bed. She could see how badly he was shaking.

"You have nothing to apologise for!" said Tamara, caressing the side of his face.

He pulled away again with a little gasp. After that dream, he couldn't stand the feel of anyone touching his face. It was like he could still feel Simon's tongue on his cheek, and taste his fingers in his mouth. He pulled himself up the bed and leaned his back against the headboard, pulling his arms around his knees.

She crawled onto the bed beside him and reached out to put her hand on his knee.

"Don't!" he said, jolting his knee away from her hand, "Please! Not right now! …Just…"

"Just what?" she asked, looking a little hurt.

"Just..." he said, glancing at her but unable to maintain eye contact, "Just... don't touch me right now... please?"

"Oh" she said, sounding a little shocked, "Um... okay..." She glanced at Noah, who was still crying in his cot beside the bed. "Should.. should I take Noah and..."

"No, don't go" he said quietly.

"What... what do do you want me to do?" she asked, just kneeling on the bed in front of him.

"Just… sit here with me?" he asked, clamping his eyes shut and hugging his knees tighter.

"If that… If that's what you want?" she said, reaching across and picking Noah up. She shuffled up the bed and leaned back against the headboard beside him with Noah nestled against her chest. "This okay?" she asked.

"Thanks" he said quietly, "I just… I need to know you're here."

They sat there in silence for a while, and she shushed Noah, while Kyle tried to calm his breathing. He hated this feeling. It made him feel weak and pathetic.

After a while, Tamara lifted her hand and set it down on the mattress between them.

"It was just a nightmare…" she said, patting her hand there to get his attention. She smiled softly when she saw him look at it. "You're safe here with me." she said, "It wasn't real".

He just nodded. He knew it wasn't real. At least, it wasn't real _now._

"That's the thing, Tam" he sighed, turning to look at her with a pained smile, "My nightmares are real."

"Baby…" she said, tilting her head in sympathy, "I know it felt real… but it was just a nightmare… really…"

"No" he said, "What I mean is… When I was little, I didn't have monsters under the bed… I didn't even have a bed…"

"Oh, god!" she said.

He held up his hand to tell her to let him speak. When she nodded, he reached down and gently took her hand. Then he took a big breath before continuing.

"The monsters were real…" he said, looking up at her again with tears welling in his eyes, "They were very very real… and they were all around me."

 **iii.**

Ash sat at one of the tables outside Angelo's waiting for Billie to get there. He hadn't seen her in a couple of days and he was looking forward to a bit of a catch-up. They'd said they'd have dinner together and a few drinks.

Much as he was looking forward to some quality brother-sister time, he was a bit pre-occupied with the mess that he'd made of things and dreading when it would inevitably blow up in his face. He knew that he shouldn't have told Kat and that being drunk wasn't much of an excuse. Phoebe was going to kill him when she found out!

He felt bad for Kyle too. He knew that Kyle really didn't want anyone to know, but now that he'd gone and blabbed to Kat, he knew that she wouldn't be able to resist going all 'police investigation' on it. Sometimes he hated how much of a big mouth he had. He took out his phone and scrolled to a message from Peter Jackson.

" _All good. Keep an eye on him for me. We'll be in touch"_ it said.

He saw Billie arrive and give him one of those beautiful smiles of hers as she walked towards him. He'd never understand why Billie had such bad luck with guys. She was such a beautiful girl, both inside and out. No-one had a bigger heart than her and he thought she was one of the best people he knew.

"Hey!" said Billie, slipping onto the stool opposite him. She reached over, lifting his bottle of beer, and took a big swig out of it. "Gonna shout me a beer?" she asked, grinning from ear to ear.

"Well, now that you've drunk most of mine… Yeah, you want the same thing?" he asked, with a little smirk. She nodded, so he went to the bar to get the drinks.

He left his phone unlocked on the table and sitting open at the text message from 'Peter Jackson'. Billie glanced at it a little suspiciously.

He returned to the table and set the beers down.

"I ordered you that nasty pizza you like so much." he said, in a teasing tone. "I figured you wouldn't want to eat any of the normal stuff that, y'know, normal people eat!"

She laughed and said "You're missing out… I'm telling you! It's a taste sensation! Mmmm mmmm mmmm!"

He wrinkled up his nose and made a noise like he was vomiting. "I think I'll take your word for it!" he said, chuckling and taking a gulp of beer.

Billie pointed to Ash's phone and said, "I didn't know you and Peter Jackson were besties? Didn't have you down as much of a Lord Of The Rings fan?"

He forced what was meant to look like a smirk and swiped his phone off the table and into his pocket.

"Yeah, me and Frodo, we're like that" he said, crossing his fingers together. "Nah, different Peter. He's an old mate from lock up."

She tilted her head at him and raised her eyebrows, making it very clear that she didn't believe him.

"It's Brax, isn't it?" she whispered quietly.

"Shhh!" he said, looking around him to check that no-one was listening. " _Peter_ 's just worried about his brother, that's all. He wants me to keep an eye on him for him."

Billie nodded and smiled as she took another swig of her beer. She knew that Ash was fiercely loyal to Brax and that he'd do anything for him.

"Might want to think of a name that isn't a famous director!" she laughed, "and I don't think your _Peter_ is much of a Lord of the Rings fan either, come to think of it!"

The pizzas arrived and they began to eat. Ash pretended to be disgusted by Billie's weird choice of toppings, as he had always done since they were kids. It was an established and comfortable joke that they never really got tired of, and that they both really enjoyed. Billie noticed that Ash was a bit quieter than normal though.

"You okay?" she asked, noticing that he'd drifted off into silence and was staring at the remains of his half-eaten pizza with a slightly dazed expression.

It wasn't like him to pick at his food. Normally he'd have had that pizza wolfed down in minutes and he'd be complaining about how weird her toppings were and how it meant he couldn't steal some of hers. She knew that something wasn't right.

"I know you, Marty" she said, tilting her head at him and leaning across to put her hand on his shoulder. "What's going on?"

He knew that he'd made a mess of things by telling Kat about Kyle, and he was worried that Phoebe would break up with him over it. Their relationship was already on pretty shaky ground without this added complication. Phoebe was also pretty unreasonable most of the time, and would be furious with him for breaking her trust, while simultaneously forgiving herself for breaking Kyle's. She was often a bit of a hypocrite, but he loved her anyway, and he always forgave her for it.

But now his stomach was a ball of anxiety and he needed to talk to someone about it. He needed advice about what to do. He really couldn't be sure what was for the best. He thought that Brax would want to know about what was going on with Kyle, and that he'd be angry with him for keeping it from him. After all, he'd specifically asked him to keep an eye out for him, now that he and Ricky were on the run.

He was supposed to let him know if anything was wrong. Well, something was definitely wrong!

But then, it wasn't his secret to tell, and Kyle had obviously kept it from his brothers for a reason. Blabbing to Brax seemed like a terrible betrayal. It was all so complicated.

"C'mon… Let's go for a walk" he said, throwing the money for the food on the table and getting up from his stool. "I need your advice" he said, as he put his arm around his little sister's shoulder and led her out of the restaurant.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

 **i.**

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" asked Tamara, looking at him with concern. "I mean, are you ready for that?"

"I'm not ill, Tam" said Kyle, drinking down the last of his orange juice and pushing his chair back in against the table.

He was dressed and ready for work and it was going to be his first day back since Noah was born. He'd taken a week to spend time with Tamara and Noah, and get them settled in, and then when all the stuff with the Hames' had come up, he'd extended his leave another a couple of days.

"It's time to go back" he said.

"Yeah, but Kyle, you haven't been sleeping well …and you're still… 'processing' things…" said Tamara.

She slipped her arms around his waist and looked up at him with worried eyes. She thought he looked thin and very tired.

He laughed a little at her choice of words.

"I can ' _process things'_ while I'm working." he said in a sarcastic tone, making the inverted commas sign with one hand. "Really, Tam, you don't have to worry about me! It's not like anything has really changed… I just need to get on with things and try to get things back to normal... I need this."

She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a long slow kiss.

"I love you" she said, smiling and tilting her head at him in concern. "Just don't push yourself too hard." she warned, putting her head against his chest and pulling him into a tight hug.

He smiled a little mischievously, and lifted her off the floor in a bear hug, spinning her round with her feet dangling.

"Don't Kyle!" she laughed and squealed, "You're gonna make me pee!"

He set her down again and then leaned in to give her a kiss on the forehead.

"I love you." he said with a gentle smile. "Bring Noah to see me after lunch, yeah?"

 **ii.**

Ash had been desperately trying to avoid eye contact with Kyle throughout his shift, because he was certain that if he actually had to look at him, he'd give himself away. He'd know that he knew, and he really didn't want that! He was kneeling on the floor behind the bar, restocking the fridges after the lunchtime rush, when Kyle appeared beside him.

"Have you had a look at the roster?" asked Kyle, running his finger down the A4 page that was normally pinned on the wall just inside the kitchen door. "It doesn't look right to me. I think we've got too many on at lunch, and not enough for dinner… Who made this?"

"It was me" said Ash, glancing up at him quickly and then looking back inside the fridge. "If you think it's wrong, go ahead and change it" he said, trying to sound as though he wasn't bothered, but there was a hint of anxiety in his voice that made it sound like he was offended.

Kyle looked down at Ash as he tore at the packaging of a box of mixers and slotted them into the fridge, and felt a little guilty. Maybe he'd been a bit ungrateful for Ash's support over the last few weeks? After all, he'd really stepped up for him, and taken care of things while he'd been out on 'paternity leave'.

"Sorry, mate!" he said in an apologetic tone, "It wasn't a criticism… We really appreciate you looking after the place while I've been out… and I mean… I think you've done a good job"

"It's fine" said Ash, turning to smile up at him, "No offence taken"

Looking up at Kyle now, he couldn't help thinking how amazing he was! To have been through something that awful as a child, and to have it all stirred up and thrown in his face so many years later, would have crushed the spirit of a lot of other people. To have the courage to get up and dust himself off like this was pretty impressive. But he suddenly realised that he was staring at him with what must have looked like some kind of dewy-eyed admiration, like a teenage girl looking at her favourite pop star! He looked away abruptly, flushing red in the face, and feeling a little embarrassed.

It hadn't gone unnoticed. Kyle couldn't help thinking that Ash had been acting a bit strangely all day. This was just the latest in what had been some strange interactions!

' _He doesn't know, does he?!_ ' he asked himself. He tried to tell himself that he was just being paranoid, but a nervous feeling began to grow in the pit of his stomach. Could Phoebe have told him?! _'Surely, she wouldn't have done that?!_ ' he thought to himself, _'She's a better person that that!'_

' _Stop overthinking things!'_ he told himself, ' _Just get on with your work!'_ He sat down on one of the stools and started to look over the roster again, crossing out names and writing them in elsewhere. He had another sheet of paper, and started to rule it out to re-write the roster again once he'd sorted out who was on and when.

Today hadn't gone so badly, he began to think. He'd managed to get through the lunch rush without any major mishaps, and was settling back in quite nicely. He was glad to have the restaurant accounts to distract himself with, and the rosters to sort out. Being back at work was what he needed right now. It had been the first time in days that he'd been able to concentrate on something else!

He had his head down and was busily scribbling names of employees into time slots on his new roster when he felt a presence behind him. Someone was hovering nearby in a way that suggested that they were unsure of themselves. He looked up in surprise to see that Kat had just slipped onto the stool beside him, and was looking at him in the strangest way. She put her hand on his shoulder.

"Kyle?" she said quietly, "I need a word in private."

He opened his mouth to speak, but fell silent when he saw the expression on her face. She looked very serious and was tilting her head in a way that was supposed to convey sympathy and concern. He recognised that look. It was the way she had looked when she'd come to tell them that Brax had drowned. It was her _'I'm so sorry, but I have bad news'_ face. His heart gave a terrible thump, and his stomach started to churn with nerves. Had something bad happened to Tamara or Noah?!

"W-what's happened?!" he finally managed to stammer, jumping to his feet with his eyes jumping out of his head. "Is Tamara okay?! Is it Noah?!"

"No Kyle!" she said, holding her hands up towards him with her palms out. "It's okay… There's nothing wrong!" she said, "I just want to speak to you about something, okay?"

"Then why are you looking at me like that?!" he said, beginning to put two and two together.

From the pitying look on her face he was nearly sure that she knew. He didn't know how she knew, but she knew!

He'd known from the moment that he'd seen the news story that this day was coming, but now that it was here, he wasn't sure that he could cope. He didn't want to talk to the police or anyone else about this.

Didn't they understand how hard it was to say those words out loud? How disgusting and pathetic it made him feel?! Why couldn't people just leave him alone?!

"I don't want to do this here, Kyle" she said, "I just need to talk to you…"

She could see the growing look of panic on his face and wanted to move him somewhere where they could have a bit more privacy.

"I need to talk to you about Melbourne" she continued, "Can we go in the back or something?"

His heart was racing now, and he was finding it hard to breathe, let alone speak!

"Kyle?" she said, reaching out and putting her hand on his shoulder. He jumped and jerked his shoulder away, so she took a step back.

"Sorry" he said, throwing her an apologetic look.

Recognising the early signs of a panic attack, he put his hand on his chest, and tried to calm his breathing _. 'Get it together, Kyle!_ ' he silently told himself. He was embarrassed, and he didn't want Kat or anyone else in the restaurant to see what a mess he was, but he couldn't stop shaking.

"Kyle, I didn't mean to freak you out!" she said.

She began to realise that this might not have been the best approach. He was clearly deeply traumatised and this excessively panicked reaction was part and parcel of that.

"Can we go somewhere to talk privately?" she tried again.

He nodded and led her outside onto the veranda. It was after the lunchtime rush and the place was basically empty so he knew that there was no-one left out there. He sat down on one of the chairs and nodded for Kat to take the chair opposite. Now that he knew what this was about, he couldn't stop his mind from racing. He wondered what Kat wanted from him.

She sat down and gave him a sympathetic smile. She was feeling nervous about broaching this subject with him and really wasn't sure how he was going to react.

"I know about the Melbourne investigation" she said, watching him carefully to try to gauge his reaction. "I know that lots of young children were abused by some people called Hames. I know that they posed as foster parents and that they did some truly terrible things…"

He looked at the ground, as his whole body began to shake violently. He wanted nothing more than to run away and to not have her look at him like this. He hated the sympathetic head tilting, but he hated the pity in her voice even more.

"I know that you were one of the children" she continued cautiously.

She wasn't sure how far to push this. He hadn't flown into a rage or thrown a table at her, so it seemed to be going pretty well so far.

"The Melbourne police would really like to speak to you" she said, "Kyle… They need your help to track down the people who did this to you… and they're trying to figure some other things out… They want us to do a DNA test, if you're willing..."

He still hadn't said anything and he hadn't taken his eyes off his shoes since she'd started speaking. She could see his legs trembling as he sat there. She reached out and placed her hand gently on his knee.

"I want you to know that I'm here to help you… if I can" she said, giving him a sympathetic head tilt.

He glanced up at her and then averted his eyes almost immediately. His face flushed red with shame.

"I'm so sorry that this happened to you" she said softly, "I'm so sorry, Kyle."

He sat in the chair opposite her but he just couldn't maintain eye contact. He couldn't stop shaking either! It was like the ground had suddenly opened up below him! It wasn't even really panic anymore, but a heavy sensation of impending doom.

He'd been found out, and now it wouldn't be long before everyone knew! He felt his stomach give a terrible lurch and he knew that he was going to vomit if he didn't get away.

"I'm sorry!" he blurted, "I… I… can't do this… I have to go!"

He got to his feet, feeling like he was suffocating and started to head towards the door, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw Ash approaching. There was something about the way that he was looking at him. Something about his facial expression that he couldn't quite place. Was it guilt?

"Kat, he's not ready for this!" said Ash, looking past him and talking directly to her instead, "He needs time!"

Kyle looked at Ash, wide-eyed with horror, as the realisation sunk in. Phoebe had told him! And then he'd told Kat! His mind began to race as he re-ran all the conversations that he'd had today and tried to figure out if everyone knew. If she'd told Ash, how many other people had she told?! Was everyone in on it?! Did the whole town know?! Was he the laughing stock of the whole Bay?!

Everyone would be laughing at him now! He was sure of it. They'd be telling jokes about 'kiddie fiddlers' and whispering behind his back.

How was he ever going to face people again now that they knew?!

He turned to look at Kat for a moment, and then back at Ash. What was that look that they'd just shared?! Were they laughing at him?! Did they think this was funny?!

He felt physically sick!

He pushed Ash away from him as he headed for the door. He needed to get out. He needed more than anything to get away. He charged out the door and down the stairs.

Outside the surf-club, he became painfully aware of the number of people just standing around in small groups, laughing and chatting amongst themselves. Their laughter sounded cruel and full of ridicule, and their smiles looked like sadistic grins. Every one of them seemed to be enjoying the joke that was his miserable life.

As he looked around him, he felt a chill run down his back, as he became convinced that everyone knew and that they were talking about him. Not just talking, they were laughing at him!

Laughter echoed in his head!

He needed to get home and lock himself away from all these prying eyes, and then maybe he'd never leave the house again. A small dark cupboard, with a door that he could lock, seemed very appealing right now.

His mind travelled back to the last time he had been the subject of public ridicule and he felt a fury building inside him…

 _~.~.~.~_

 _Kyle stood shivering in nothing but his underwear, listening to the squeals of laughter, and looking around the playground at the gleeful faces of all the other children who were taking pleasure in his total humiliation._

 _He really didn't like school, and this was only day two!_

 _His first day at school had not gone well either. He'd been introduced to the class, and then told to sit at a desk about halfway down the room, beside a girl with red frizzy hair and pink plastic framed glasses._

 _He was in a class with twelve year olds, despite the fact that he was fourteen. Even so, he knew that he wasn't going to be able to keep up with the others in the class, and they'd already arranged a special tutor and remedial lessons for him to help him catch up. The class had been told in advance that there was a new kid starting who was a little bit special and that they were to be very kind to him._

 _They might as well have put a target on his back as far as the class bully was concerned. Jason Blackmore had been out for his blood from the moment that he'd set foot in the classroom. He was at the desk behind him and had started by flicking his ears every time the teacher wasn't looking. After that he'd started prodding him in the back pretty insistently, but Kyle was no stranger to physical discomfort, so he'd done his best to tune it out and pretend it wasn't happening. He didn't want to do anything wrong in case he got in trouble and they sent him back to Simon and Jessica._

 _At lunch, Jason had come over and started punching him in the arm, over and over again, looking for a reaction. He didn't get one._

 _It was only when he'd reached over his shoulder and taken his sandwich from him that Kyle had suddenly seen red. Within seconds, they were on the floor and Kyle had sunk his teeth into Jason's arm. The teachers broke up the fight and frogmarched them both to the principal's office. The parents had been called in and the Summers had been warned that this kind of behaviour would not be tolerated._

 _He'd found it hard to explain. He couldn't tell them the truth because that would have meant telling them about that house…_

 _The truth was, that for as long as he could remember, he'd never been sure when, or if, he'd get another meal. Sometimes days would go by and he'd be marched up and down those stairs, feeling weak and dizzy, and with a stomach so empty it felt like it was devouring itself._

 _When Jessica would finally bring the bucket down, there'd be a feeding frenzy, and the kids would nearly rip each other limb from limb to get a handful of whatever was going. He'd often crawled the floor to pick up whatever scraps the others had missed._

 _Sometimes when he'd been brought upstairs there'd been lots of food sitting around on the coffee table, but he'd never been allowed to eat it. Sometimes the men brought him sweets but they'd be taken away from him immediately after. The worst beating that he'd ever got was when he'd stolen a bar of chocolate off the table and tried to hide it to eat later._

 _Food was not something that he took for granted._

 _He'd hidden stashes of it all around his bedroom at the Summers' house, concealed in his underwear drawer, and in his shoes in the closet. Half-eaten sandwiches, roast potatoes from Sunday lunch, chicken nuggets wrapped in napkins and hidden up his sleeves so the Summers wouldn't know. He'd even stolen a tin of spaghetti to keep under his mattress!_

 _Jenny kept finding his hiding spots, and taking his stashes away from him, telling him that it wasn't hygienic to keep half-eaten food in his room. When he'd kept doing it, they'd agreed that he could keep a shelf of food in his closet._

 _Every evening he would run his fingers over the unopened packets of biscuits and potato chips sitting on the shelf in the closet in his room. He'd breathe a sigh of relief as he went to bed, but he'd sometimes wake, terrified that someone might have taken it, and have to get up and check._

 _Food was no laughing matter!_

 _That next day at school, Jason and his mates had been waiting for him, and they'd got him in the playground at lunchtime. They'd held him down and stripped him of his clothes, leaving him feeling an intense humiliation that sadly, was nothing new. It wasn't the first time that he'd had to stand in front of people feeling naked and vulnerable, but it was the first time that it had been at the hands of other kids._

 _He'd gone home that day and hid in the closet again for the first time in over a month…_

~.~.~.~

He'd never forgotten that feeling.

He saw a group of teenagers up ahead of him, and as he drew nearer, he could hear that they were laughing hysterically. He saw one of the boys look at him as he got closer, and then whisper in one of the girls' ears, before collapsing into fits of giggles. The thought that everyone was laughing at something so deeply personal to him was more than he could take!

He looked at their smug insensitive faces and his blood began to boil. They'd never understand what he'd been through in his life and the fact that they could find it funny at all just showed what spoilt and over privileged little brats they all were. Someone needed to teach them a lesson!

He charged forward and grabbed the ringleader by the front of his shirt, pulling him up onto his tiptoes so his face was only inches from his own.

"You think rape is funny?!" he roared in his face. "You think that's funny?! Do you?! You little shit!"

"Let him go!" shouted Ash, having just caught up with him, "What are you doing mate? He's just a kid!"

He grabbed Kyle's arm and dragged him away from the frightened looking teenage boy.

"He's laughing at me!" yelled Kyle, "They all are!" He was pointing at the frightened group of teenagers. "Everyone knows now…" he shouted, "…and they think it's funny!"

His voice broke on the last word and he began to cry.

"They think what those monsters did to me is funny!" he sobbed, "They think it's funny that they stole my childhood!"

He fell to his knees, weeping inconsolably, and hid his face as his whole body began to shudder.

"They think it's funny…" he sobbed again.

Ash knelt down beside him, motioning for the kids to move away and give them space.

"He doesn't know anything, Kyle! No-one knows anything!" he said, putting his arm around his shoulder. "And no-one thinks it's funny, mate… They don't!"

Kyle looked up at Ash, with eyes full of pain and sadness.

"I don't want people to know…" he cried, "I don't want anyone to know!"

Ash pulled him into a hug and held him tightly. He nodded apologetically to the worried looking teen, who was still watching from a distance. The kid was clearly still reeling from what he had seen as a clear threat of sexual violence on Kyle's part.

Ash mouthed the word 'sorry' to him and shook his head a little sadly as he walked away.

 **iii.**

"I'll be okay, Ash!" said Kyle, looking embarrassed as they made their way towards his front door. "You don't need to escort me home" he said, laughing a little nervously in an effort to make light of things.

"I'm not leaving you on your own, mate!" said Ash, still looking concerned. "I just want to make sure that Tam is here and that you're not gonna be alone this evening."

"Tam's home" said Kyle, shaking his head at Ash in a slightly exasperated way, as he took his keys out.

He was embarrassed that Ash had seen him have such a public meltdown and he was mortified at the thought of running into any of those kids again. He'd really made a show of himself today! All he really wanted was to get inside and hide his face from the world for as long as possible. He was hoping that he could get Ash to leave pretty sharpish.

"We have a baby who's not even a month old…" he reasoned, "Where else would she be?"

He opened the door, and stepped into the living-room, with Ash following close behind him. His mouth fell open when he saw that Tamara wasn't alone.

"What are you doing here?!" exclaimed Kyle, looking at the man sitting on his couch.

"Nice!" replied Heath, "What kind of way is that to greet your brother?!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:**

 **So, this chapter is a bit longer than normal, but I couldn't figure out to split it up in a sensible way... so I've left it as is. Hope you like it! :-)**

 **To all the folk out there who are reading this story, I'd really appreciate it if you could let me know what you think of the story so far. Any feedback at all would be very much appreciated!**

 **Chapter 11**

 **i.**

16 hours ago...

Heath pulled his phone out of his pocket, and peered at the unknown number on the screen, wondering who would be calling at this time of night. Everyone that he and Bianca hung around with these days had small children and would have known not to call too late. It was nearly midnight!

He glanced down at Bianca apologetically and cancelled the call. He figured if it was that important then they'd leave a message. Tonight, was 'date night'. He smiled at his wife, who was lying stretched out on the couch with her head resting on his thigh, and he gently stroked her hair in that way that she always liked.

Harley had finally gone to bed, and Darcy was at a sleepover, so they were enjoying a bit of a cuddle on the couch, free of Lego and toy cars, for once.

Bianca had got some rubbish romantic movie to watch and he was doing his best to pretend that he was enjoying it. He was grateful that it wasn't one of those ones with subtitles that she sometimes forced him to watch with her! He was nearly sure that she just used foreign films as some kind of punishment when he'd done something to annoy her.

His phone began to ring again, and he looked at the screen, wondering if it was a number he should know. Maybe one of the new staff? If it was, then he thought they could leave him a message, or better still, call him at a more sensible hour and not in the middle of the night! He cancelled the call again and smiled a little at himself, at how staid and middle-aged he was becoming. A River Boy tutting about late night phone calls?!

Nearly immediately, the phone rang again, and Bianca gave an exasperated huff.

"Answer it, Heath!" she said, pulling herself into a sitting position. "Maybe it's something to do with Darce?!"

He furrowed his brows and answered the call.

"Yeah?!" he said, doing little to hide his annoyance. "Brax!" he exclaimed, eyes suddenly wide with surprise. "Mate! You okay?!"

They hadn't heard from him or Ricky for nearly four months, and even then, it had only been for a one minute phonecall! They didn't even know where they were! Brax wanted to keep it that way.

Bianca turned to face him, crouching on the couch on her knees. She looked excited. She missed Ricky, and was hoping that she'd get to speak to her this time. "Ricky?" she mouthed at him, with a nod to the phone in his hand, but he just seemed to stare through her. Something was wrong!

"What?!" he said in a voice that sounded a little breathless with shock. "Slow down Brax! What are you trying to tell me?!"

Bianca went to speak, but he shushed her, and she was more than a little offended when he held his hand up to tell her to be quiet. She was about to shout at him, but her annoyance quickly faded when she noticed just how serious his expression had become. He looked quite shaken and upset.

"Oh, Jesus!" groaned Heath, shaking his head as he listened to Brax, "I can't believe this..."

She put her hand on his knee and gave it a little squeeze in an attempt to be supportive. He was just sitting there now, listening intently, and she noticed that his face had blanched white.

"But... how could he not have..." Heath started to say, but Brax obviously cut him off.

'What's wrong?!' asked Bianca, in a low whisper, but he just gave her a little shake of the head again, to tell her that it wasn't good news.

Brax was clearly doing a lot of talking which wasn't usual for a Braxton, and Heath had barely uttered a word since he'd answered the call. She was getting worried now. She began to wonder if Kyle had been hurt or killed. Or maybe Ricky and the baby?! It seemed the only likely reason for Brax to get in touch and for Heath to be so upset.

"Oh God!" moaned Heath, rubbing his face in his hand. "Uh... Now? ...Yeah, just give me a sec..."

He motioned for Bianca to hand him the remote control and she reached over and got it for him off the coffee table. He switched back onto the TV signal and said, "Okay, which channel?"

As he clicked onto the right channel, there was news coverage already underway and he caught the newsreader mid-sentence.

 _"…child pornography. The hunt for Simon and Jessica Hames continues, after sightings in Perth and Sydney have proven to be false leads..."_

"This can't be real!" excaimed Heath, still holding the phone to his ear as he watched the news coverage.

 _"Official statements released today have confirmed that a number of the bodies found on the property are those of very small babies, thought to be new-borns. DNA tests have concluded that they all share the same mother, and were in fact half-siblings. No details of any of the other bodies have yet been released."_

Bianca glanced at Heath in concern. Why on earth were they watching a news story about murder and paedophilia, and what did this have to do with Brax and Ricky?!

 _"A 36-year-old woman has been helping the police with their enquiries, and is known to have been the one who raised the alarm some weeks ago. Her identity cannot be revealed at this time, but it is known now that she was the victim of kidnapping at the age of nine, and has been held since that time in the Hames' residence._

 _On Friday 1st December, she is known to have entered a police station in Sandringham, just outside Melbourne, and identified herself as a kidnap victim, taken from her family nearly 27 years ago. Efforts are being made to reunite her with her family._

 _Further shockwaves today, at allegations that senior representatives of DoCS were connected to the paedophile ring operated by Simon and Jessica Hames. Two individuals, who cannot yet be named, have been implicated as having involvement and playing an active role, in the abuse and exploitation of children held for years in the Hames' family home. Police are investigating._

 _In some happier news, one of the children discovered on the property at the time of the raid, has been identified as Hayden Albee; a child abducted at the age of four. This afternoon, he was successfully reunited with his parents after nearly three years. The family ask that the public respect their need for privacy at this difficult time._

 _Police are again appealing for any individuals that may have come into contact with the Hames' to please get in touch with Melbourne police."_

"Have you spoken to him?" asked Heath, muting the TV as the newsreader moved on to another story.

He sat forward with his elbow resting on his knee, and his hand covering his mouth, as he listened to Brax.

"Yeah, I can do that" he mumbled, as he got up off the sofa. He grabbed the hair at the back of his head, and began pulling at it as he paced up and down the floor.

"You sure he'll want me there?" he asked, looking worried. "You know I'm not good at this stuff… He needs _you,_ Brax!" he said, with a sad sigh. After another moment, he began to nod. "Yeah, Brax, I know…" he said, "I'll do my best, okay?"

He hung up the phone and stood for a moment staring at the floor with his fists clenched. When he finally looked up at Bianca, she could see that his eyes had welled up with tears, so she got up and put her arms around his waist.

She looked up at him and said, "What was all that about?!"

"Kyle" he said, pointing at the TV. "He... he was one of those kids..."

"He what?!" gasped Bianca.

" _That_ …. that fucking hellhole..." he stammered, "That's where he grew up!"

 **ii.**

 _10 Years Ago…_

 _Seventeen-year-old Kyle Bennett held his arms out and allowed the prison guard to pat him down, manhandling him in a way that was a little too intimate, and that brought back some very unwelcome memories. Finished with the search, the guard nodded for him to move along, so he put his arms down again and moved in the direction that the guard had indicated._

 _He joined the large group of relatives waiting to go in to see their loved ones, and shuffled from foot to foot anxiously. He stuck his hands in his pockets to hide how much they were shaking. He was so nervous!_

 _Another guard unbolted the large metal door and ushered all the people inside. He stood there, feeling very unsure of himself just inside the doorway. He was being bumped and jostled, as the others made their way to visiting tables around the room. He was the only one that didn't know where to go._

 _All the prisoners were already waiting, dressed in yellow bibs to identify them, and he scanned the tables trying to see if he could recognise the man he'd come to see. All he had was an old 1980s photo from his case file, so he wasn't sure if he'd know him when he saw him._

 _He scanned the faces and suddenly one jumped out at him. It was a man with grey hair and a big handlebar type moustache and beard, like the type you see on motorcycle gang members. He was heavily tattooed, and pretty rough looking, and he thought he looked like someone that might kill you if you looked at him the wrong way._

 _He didn't look like a very nice man, and seeing him sitting there now, Kyle couldn't help but think back to some of the men who used to come to Simon and Jessica's house. Their regular 'customers'. They'd had that same cruel look as this man, and a coldness in their eyes, a little like a lizard._

 _He still woke up screaming every now and then because of those men..._

 _This man looked just like them._

 _He flinched a little when the man suddenly made eye contact with him, but abruptly looked away. He didn't know what else to do! He wasn't brave enough to stare him out of it! Instead, he just dithered by the door, wondering if this would turn out to be the worst decision he'd ever made, and toying with the idea of backing out right now._

 _One of the guards had been watching from across the room, and eventually approached him. He asked him who he was there to see and then pointed at the man that he'd been looking at before. He was right... unfortunately!_

 _"That's Danny Braxton, right there." said the guard, giving him a pat on the back to push him gently in that direction._

 _Kyle took a deep breath, clenching his fists, and slowly made his way over to Danny's table. He slid into the chair opposite him, staring at the table, and trying to summon the courage to look him in the eye._

 _"I'm Kyle Bennett" he said, glancing up shyly and sticking his hand out to him._

 _Danny hesitated for a moment, with a little smirk at the corner of his lips, but then he reached out and squeezed his hand so hard that he nearly broke his fingers. When he saw Kyle wince, he started to laugh._

 _"Well, aren't you just the little gentleman?!" he teased, still crushing the smaller hand in his own, "I thought they said you were seventeen?!"_

 _Kyle squirmed a little, as Danny ran his eyes up and down his slim frame and tilted his head at him with an air of disappointment._

 _"You're a scrawny little thing!" sneered Danny, as he gave the boy's fingers one more merciless squeeze, "Aren't ya?! ...I mean, Christ! There's not a pick of flesh on ya!"_

 _Kyle blushed a little red, yanking his hand back, and staring down at the table in shame and embarrassment. He resisted the urge to massage his bruised fingers because he didn't want his dad to think any less of him than he already did! 'But what kind of asshole has to prove his manhood by breaking someone's fingers?!' he thought to himself._

 _"So what are you, then?" asked Danny, "Fourteen? ...Fifteen?" He was looking a little puzzled as he obviously did some sums in his head and tried to work out the timeline._

 _"I... I turned seventeen a month ago" said Kyle, stammering a little from embarrassment, "I've always just b-been a bit small… I guess."_

 _In a strange way, he felt like he owed him some sort of explanation, even though he didn't really have one himself. Not one that he wanted to talk about anyway… ._

 _Everyone had always said that he was small, and that he looked young for his age. He figured that it must have been from all the years of malnutrition and near-starvation at the Hames' house. Living in the dark probably hadn't helped either. It was a wonder that he hadn't developed rickets! He was hoping that he'd have a sudden growth spurt one of these days and that he'd catch up eventually._

 _He glanced up at Danny and tried to cast his mind back to when he was little. It was like he was trying to match his face to any tiny shreds of memory that he had. There was nothing there!_

 _"I don't remember you" he said, feeling a little guilty._

 _How could he not remember his own father?! What on earth was wrong with him?!_

 _"Well you're not what I thought you'd look like!" frowned Danny, "That's for sure!"_

 _He was looking him up and down with a strange expression on his face._

 _"I mean, I haven't seen you since you were… I don't know… about five? And I don't have any photos of you… but I always thought you'd grow up to be a bit of a bruiser… not some scrawny little thing…"_

 _Kyle hung his head a little bit, as he felt Danny's disapproving eyes on him. He wanted to hide somewhere that he couldn't be seen. Having his father tell him what a weakling he looked was not what he'd been hoping for from this meeting!_

 _"I thought you'd look like Darryl…" continued Danny, "You looked so much like him when you were little! …The absolute spit of him… Same bull neck on you! ...Big square head..." He narrowed his eyes at him as though he was trying to work something out. "I was sure you had green eyes..." he said, "Green, like Darryl's?"_

 _"No" said Kyle, staring down at the table dejectedly, "They're brown... They've always been brown."_

 _"Like Heath, then" huffed Danny._

 _Kyle glanced up at him, wondering how a father could forget the colour of his son's eyes?! He hadn't forgotten his 'real' sons' eye colours by the sound of things! Was it just that he'd cared so little about him, a 'non-Braxton', that he hadn't bothered to pay attention?!_

 _Danny suddenly reached across the table and grabbed hold of Kyle's chin. He ignored the jumpiness, and the obvious fear in his eyes, as he began tilting his face back and forth for a better look. Kyle couldn't help thinking of Jessica, and the way she'd done exactly this that last day at the house. He began to sweat and tremble a little, as unwanted memories flooded through his mind. He just hoped that Danny wouldn't notice._

 _"Yeah, well…" grunted Danny, "Looks like you got your mother's looks in the end then… all bone and no muscle…" He let go of his chin, shoving him back a little violently. "That's not a Braxton face…" he said, shaking his head, "Far too pretty! ...Like a girl."_

 _'Pretty?!' thought Kyle, as he glanced up at his father in alarm. He didn't like people using those kind of words to describe him. Those kind of 'sexual' words. They made him feel used and dirty. He also didn't like being called a 'girl'!_

 _Danny must have seen the redness creeping up his neck and registered his anger and embarrassment. Like any good bully, he jumped on it straight away!_

 _"What is it they call you again?" he asked, with a nasty sort of sneer, "Little 'Kylie', was it?!"_

 _Kyle glared up at him and his face flushed an even deeper shade of red. This time, with obvious anger._

 _"Or was it Sheila?" he taunted._

 _Kyle looked towards the door. He wanted to leave! All of a sudden, he had no idea why he'd even come here, not when he had a perfectly good father figure at home!_

 _It was true that he and David hadn't been getting on for some time, what with all the teenage angst that was normal for a boy his age. He was staying out too late, he was drinking and smoking, and he was getting up to all sorts that he shouldn't have been. David felt that he was neglecting his studies and he was worried about him getting mixed up with the wrong crowd. He and his foster father didn't seem to be able to agree on anything these days! ...Least of all, this sudden urge to rekindle a relationship with his jailbird father. A father who, according to his DoCS case file, had been nothing but abusive when he'd been around!_

 _He and David couldn't see eye to eye on pretty much anything at the moment, but one thing was crystal clear! David was more of a father to him than Danny had ever been!_

 _What was he doing wasting his time visiting a low-life like this?!_

 _"Better than your ugly mug!" growled Kyle, before starting to get up from the table._

 _He went to walk away, but changed his mind, and spun round to face him, leaning both hands on the table so their faces were inches apart._

 _"You know what, Danny?!" he spat at him, "I don't need you in my life... As far as I'm concerned, you can go and fuck yourself!"_

 _With that, he turned to walk away again, but this time Danny reached out and caught his arm._

 _"That's what I was looking for!" exclaimed the older man, "A bit of spirit! A bit of fire in your belly!"_

 _He grinned at him, and then pulled him back down into the seat, being very forceful about it and not taking no for an answer._

 _"Maybe there is a bit of Braxton in you after all!" he crowed triumphantly, "C'mon, we've still got half an hour… Let's try to get to know each other… eh?!"_

 _He could see that the boy was still upset, and looking at him with anger and disdain. He was going to have to try another tack._

 _"I was just kidding!" he explained, "C'mon?! You can take a joke?! …Just your old man's sense of humour, that's all… Didn't mean nothing by it."_

 _There was something genuinely apologetic about his tone, even if he was never going to actually say sorry. He was looking at him a little pleadingly now._

 _When Kyle didn't answer, Danny glanced around to make sure that he wouldn't be overheard._

 _"Please?" he said, looking like the word might choke him._

 _Kyle sat back in his chair, and began staring him in the eye a little defiantly. He was suddenly a lot less worried about what this man thought of him. In that one fleeting moment of vulnerability, when Danny Braxton had actually said 'please', it had become clear that he was lonely. For all his tough guy bravado, he was just a lonely old man. He had no-one to come visit, and no-one to really care about him. And despite all the insults he'd been throwing at him, he didn't actually want him to leave!_

 _This was a very unfamiliar feeling! It was the first time in his life that he felt the ball was truly in his court. He didn't need this man's approval (although he wanted it). He could leave now and never come back... or he could choose to stay and get to know him. It was his choice! He HAD a choice! He almost felt strong. Strong?! For maybe the first time in his whole miserable life!_

 _"I really don't remember you, you know" said Kyle, wanting to hurt him, "…and I think I'd remember a ridiculous moustache like that, don't you?!"_

 _He smiled when he saw the older man's face flush a little red. Maybe it was his turn to ruffle some feathers?_

 _"I mean, what's the look you're going for?!" he continued, "You do know that Freddie Mercury's dead, right?!"_

 _Danny looked at him in shock at first. No-one ever spoke to him like that in here. So fearsome was his reputation, that he commanded respect no matter where he went._

 _Having his scrawny teenage kid give him a dressing down like this was almost refreshing, and it actually made him feel a little proud. Maybe there was hope for the boy yet?! Maybe he could use him?! His eyes lit up and he began to laugh a loud wheezing sort of chuckle._

 _"That's what I'm talking about!" he said, tearing up a little from the laughter, and squeezing Kyle's shoulder in his big leathery hand, "You got balls, kid! ...I'll give you that! Big hairy ones! ...Maybe you are a Braxton, after all?!"_

 **iii.**

Present day…

"What kind of way is that to greet your brother?!" said Heath.

He threw him a cheeky little grin in an effort to hide his nervousness.

"You haven't bothered to get in touch for months" huffed Kyle, "…and now you just turn up out of the blue... So, yeah... I wanna know why you're here?!"

Heath was holding baby Noah in his arms and was sitting with his feet up on Kyle's coffee table. He'd obviously been there for some time and there were coffee cups on the table as well as a screwed up empty biscuit packet. He and Tamara had clearly been getting on well. There was a huge and ridiculous oversized teddy bear sitting to one side of the room, and a selection of baby grows sitting beside Tamara on the arm of the couch. There was wrapping paper everywhere!

"I thought it was time I met my nephew..." said Heath, "Isn't that right, Noah?!"

He smiled down at the sleeping baby in his arms. Noah had a tight hold of his finger with his chubby little hand and was softly snoring.

"He's a bruiser, isn't he?!" he said, looking back at Kyle with a big smile on his face.

"Yeah, …he is" said Kyle, in a wary sounding voice.

He looked at Tamara and raised his eyebrows at her in a questioning kind of way, but she just smiled back at him and shrugged her shoulders. She didn't know why Heath had come either.

"That's really why you're here?" asked Kyle, crossing his arms across his chest and throwing him a look that said he didn't believe him. "So… you just got a sudden urge to drive all the way here, mid-week, and without Bianca? Just so you could meet your nephew?!"

"Is that a problem?" asked Heath, as he played with Noah's tiny little fingers.

He was clearly glad to have the baby to distract him and to hide the fact that he was finding it hard to make eye contact.

Kyle wasn't buying his story. It was all too much of a coincidence that Heath would just show up here like this, not with everything that was going on. He was sure that either Ash or Phoebe must have taken it upon themselves to tell him.

He glanced sideways at Ash, and the expression on his face told him everything that he needed to know. Ash's face flushed bright red and then he'd looked away. He wasn't even able to look him in the eye.

Kyle nodded slowly, and then threw himself in the armchair in a defeated sort of way. "So, you know then?" he said, leaning his head on his hand and looking thoroughly depressed.

Tamara looked around at each of the guys, surprised that both Ash and Heath seemed to know about Kyle's history, and sensing the tension in the room.

"Yeah, mate... I know." admitted Heath, nodding sadly at him.

He looked at Kyle sitting slumped there in the chair, and wished that he was better with words. He wished that he was better at doing the supportive big brother stuff, like Brax had always been. He didn't really know what to do or what to say. He'd never had to be the one that anyone came to for the emotional stuff. He was the fun one, the one you got drunk with, or who got you the drink when you were underage. He wasn't a proper grown-up, not really, so he felt terribly unprepared for this.

"Brax called me" said Heath, handing the baby back to Tamara, and sitting forward on the couch to face Kyle properly. "He asked me to come see if you're okay."

Kyle glared at Ash and then sat forward with his head in his hands. He let out a groan of frustration.

"Seriously Ash! Is there anyone you haven't told?! Why didn't you just take out a full-page ad in the paper... Or maybe get a billboard outside the surf-club?!"

Ash's face burned even brighter red.

"I'm sorry, mate" he said, in a low and mumbled voice, "I just thought you could do with the support… I mean…They're your family... Let them help you." He reached out and tried to put his hand on Kyle's shoulder. "Mate…" he began to say.

"Can you just leave?" snapped Kyle, as he angrily pulled his shoulder away.

"Mate, I…." stammered Ash.

"Just fuck off!" shouted Kyle, emphasising each word as he pointed at the door for him to leave, "Get the fuck out of my house! …And I'd appreciate it if you could stop talking about me behind my back!"

"I'm not!" insisted Ash, "It was just…"

"It might be pretty juicy gossip" sneered Kyle, "…but it's my life that you're gossiping about…"

"Mate! It really wasn't like that!" pleaded Ash. He suddenly felt very guilty. "I didn't mean to upset you!"

In truth, he couldn't help thinking that Kyle had every right to be angry with him. When it came down to it, it hadn't been his secret to tell! If Kyle had wanted to tell Heath and Brax about it, then that should have been his choice to make, and he felt bad that he'd taken the decision out of his hands. Hadn't he had enough things forced on him for a lifetime?!

"Just go!" said Kyle, looking away from Ash and clenching his teeth in anger.

He wanted him to go before he ended up hitting him. His whole body felt tense, and one way or another, he was going to have to release the tension. Maybe he'd end up hitting Heath instead?

Ash looked at Heath and Tamara and threw them a nervous smile that said 'He's all yours!'.

Then he looked back at Kyle.

"Okay, mate…" he said, "I'm gonna go… but if you need anything…"

Kyle just snorted dismissively and refused to look at him, so Ash gave a resigned little nod and then walked out the door. He knew that he was in the wrong, but there was little that he could do about it now. The damage was already done.

Kyle sat staring into the distance, as he silently seethed, and clenched his jaw so hard it hurt.

He glanced at Tamara a little suspiciously. He didn't like how pally she was being with Heath and he wondered if she might have been in on this too? Had she gone around shooting her mouth off just like Phoebe had done?! Had she been sitting here gossiping with Heath before he got here?! Having a good old laugh at his expense?!

Was there anyone in his life that he could really trust?! It really didn't feel like it right now.

He was furious with Phoebe for breaking his confidence like this. She was his oldest friend, and the thought that he couldn't even trust her, really hurt. He was angry with Ash for telling Kat, and even more upset with him for telling his brothers.

But, above all else, he was angry because he could see the way that Heath was looking at him right now.

He knew that Heath, much like Danny, had always seen him as some sort of weakling, and not a 'real Braxton'. Now with all of this, he'd just handed him irrefutable proof! 'Kylie, the rape victim' he sneered in his own head. He could just hear him and Brax laughing about it now, with all their River Boy mates. They'd probably have a giggle about it over a cold beer, and a surf at the beach. Maybe make some jokes about it, the kind of 'kiddie fiddler' jokes that people just casually throw around the place without batting an eyelid. As though rape could ever be funny!

But when it came down to it, he was mostly angry with himself, because he knew that Heath was right. He _was_ weak! He _was_ pathetic! He wasn't a real man! He'd _let_ those sick bastards do those things to him. He'd _let_ them! He hadn't even tried to fight!

He knew now that none of the other 'Braxton' boys would have taken the abuse that he had. They wouldn't have given in as easily as he had, or done the things that he'd done. They would have fought! He was sure of it! They'd have bitten and scratched, and used every dirty move in the book to get out of it. They wouldn't have let it happen to _them_! They would have fought _harder!_

How could they not be ashamed of him?!

After what felt like an eternity of uncomfortable silence, Heath cleared his throat in an exaggerated manner.

"Well?!" he said, "Are you gonna offer me a beer or what?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Kat stared at the floor, avoiding eye contact, as she tried to slink past Ash in the hallway. He and Phoebe had been arguing for the last couple of hours, yelling the place down, and stomping about the place. About twenty minutes ago, Phoebe had come storming up the hallway to their bedroom, and then slammed the door in Ash's face. The shouting had continued, with Phoebe on one side and Ash on the other.

Kat had been hiding in her room, waiting for things to calm down, so she could come out again. She didn't want to get dragged into the middle of it, and she didn't think that either of them would really appreciate an audience! The problem was that she had to go to work in about half an hour, and she needed to eat lunch before she left. She couldn't wait any longer!

"Pheebs! Can you please open the door?!" yelled Ash, banging on the bedroom door once again. "Please, Pheebs?! I'm sorry!"

"Go away, Ash!" came a roar from the other side of the door. "You have to be like the worst boyfriend EVER!"

Kat smirked a little as she walked away. She couldn't help shaking her head at how much of a hypocrite Phoebe was sometimes. Why did Ash always let her get away with it?! Obviously, Ash should never have broken Phoebe's confidence by blabbing about Kyle, but she'd done exactly the same thing in telling him in the first place! It was so like her to not be able to see that!

She did like Phoebe, but there were certain character traits that made her a little annoying, and if she was honest with herself, she was a little jealous of her relationship with Ash. She thought that he deserved better.

She glanced back at Ash and accidentally made eye contact with him as he slumped with his back against the bedroom door. He looked embarrassed and a bit defeated. She gave him a sympathetic smile and disappeared into the kitchen.

She made herself a sandwich and sat down at the table, listening to Ash's continued pleading out in the hallway.

"Give it up, mate!" she mumbled to herself as she took a bite of one half of her sandwich, "She's not worth it!"

"What was that?" asked Ash, standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

She nearly choked on her sandwich and turned to look at him, blushing bright red. Her mouth was full of half-eaten sandwich so she was desperately hoping that he hadn't understood what she'd said.

"Nothing!" she mumbled, looking guilty.

He wandered over, looking tired and depressed, and slumped into one of the chairs beside Kat at the table.

"She's never going to forgive me for this!" he said, leaning his elbows on the table and putting his head in his hands.

"She told _you_!" exclaimed Kat, "She told you Kyle's secrets, and then she gets upset because you told me?! Doesn't she see that it's pretty much the same thing?!"

He looked up at her and shrugged his shoulders.

"You know Pheebs… It's always about her." he said, "To be honest… I'm more worried about Kyle… You saw him earlier! He's in a really bad way, Kat! …I shouldn't have told…"

His eyes widened and he stopped mid-sentence as he realised what he'd almost said! He'd almost told her about Brax! He felt a nervous heat, snaking up his neck, but he hoped that Kat wouldn't notice. How stupid he could be sometimes!

"I shouldn't have told _you_ " he said, recovering himself quickly.

"I have to talk to him today" said Kat, furrowing her brow at him, "I know he doesn't want to, but the police in Melbourne need to speak to him… He might not get a choice in the matter."

"Can you leave him alone today, Kat?" said Ash, looking at her pleadingly. "Heath is home from the city… Can you just give them a bit of time to sort things out?"

She nodded and took another big bite out of her sandwich. Seeing Ash staring at the other half of her sandwich sitting in front of her, she rolled her eyes at him, and pushed the plate in his direction.

"Go on then!" she said, smiling with a mouth full of sandwich. "You're like a bottomless pit, you know?!"

 **ii.**

Kyle sat on the decking outside the house, sullenly staring into the distance, and occasionally taking a slug from the beer bottle in his hand.

Heath sat beside him in silence. He'd decided to let Kyle initiate the conversation, if and when he was ready. He glanced at him every now and then, nervously wondering what was going on in his head. He wasn't sure that he really wanted to know the finer details though. It made him feel sick just to think about it, never mind having it happen to you! He wondered how he had lived with this secret for so long, and how had he seemed so 'normal'?!

He could see that he was angry right now. That much was clear from the clenched jaw and the noticeable flaring of his nostrils. He was breathing much too fast.

They'd made it through a very tense dinner where Kyle had barely said two words to either him or Tamara. He'd just sat there sullenly pushing his food about the plate and had even bitten Tam's head off when she'd scolded him for not eating. Apparently it was 'none of her business' whether he ate or not, and he 'wasn't a child' either! Despite what the temper tantrum might have suggested. After dinner, he'd stomped out here to the back garden without inviting either of them, and Heath had simply followed him, refusing to take no for an answer. They'd been sitting here in silence for almost half an hour now and the silence was becoming more and more uncomfortable.

Heath could also see that it was taking every bit of strength that Kyle had to hold it together. Every time he picked up his beer bottle there was a small tremor in his hand. It was so small that he might have missed it if he hadn't been watching him so intently. He was clearly in a bad way, his whole body on edge.

As he sat there beside him, his own stomach felt like it was churning. He hadn't managed much of his dinner either because he was so nervous. He'd done his best to hide it from Kyle by making stupid little jokes, but they'd all fallen incredibly flat. Of course, they had! This wasn't the time or the place for them! If there was ever a time to be serious, this was it! He couldn't begin to imagine what Kyle had been through, and how hard it must be to admit it to other people. How was he going to talk to him about it?! What if he made a mess of this?!

He finished his beer and noticed that Kyle's bottle was empty too, so he picked Kyle's one up with his own, and got to his feet.

"I'll grab us another couple of beers" he said, "Want anything else from the kitchen?"

"No" said Kyle, through gritted teeth.

Kyle didn't turn to look at him as he left. There was an anger building inside him that he didn't know what to do with, and it was getting harder and harder to deal with it.

Every muscle in his body was tense and his heart was thump thump thumping in a way that was making him incredibly anxious. He couldn't stand this feeling, but he couldn't make himself relax either. Heath was getting on his nerves, and the longer they sat there, the more he wanted to turn around and just smack him in the face! All the little sideways glances when he didn't think he was looking! All the _'maybe I should say something?_ ' hesitation, followed by awkward silence. The fact that Heath was being _'nice'_ to him. He couldn't stand it!

He knew that none of this was Heath's fault. Of course, he knew that! Not even being here when he wasn't wanted was his fault. Brax had sent him, and Brax had sent him because Ash had called him, and Ash had called him because he'd made the stupid decision to tell Phoebe (of all people!) He'd told her something that should have stayed private. He'd trusted her to keep that big mouth of hers shut! And he'd been wrong! So very very wrong! This was all his fault! No-one else's! Like everything else in his miserable fucking life! HIS FAULT! He hated himself right now! He was so angry!

More than anything though, he just wanted to be left alone. He wanted to hide away in some dark place where no one would ever find him. Was that so much to ask?!

He thought about his cell at the Hames' house, and wondered at himself in disgust. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he actually missed it sometimes! There was a feeling of security that he missed. A sense that the world was closed away out there, and that he was separate from it. He was cut off and out of reach, ...maybe even safe? There had to be something very wrong with him! How could he crave something that had basically been a prison?! Shouldn't he be scared of cramped spaces?! Shouldn't the fact that he'd been locked up in a small dark place have created a kind of claustrophobia in him?! Why would he ever want to go back there?!

He guessed that it made sense in some perverse sort of way. Like a dog that gets used to being crated, he'd been conditioned to see his cell as a sort of refuge. He'd been able to curl up in there, away from the horrors that awaited him upstairs. It had been a comfort to him when nothing else was; his only solace in a world that was terrifying and often incredibly physically painful. Like an animal in its burrow, he'd wanted to stay in there and never come out.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder what a psychiatrist would make of it!

"Here you go, mate" said Heath reappearing with two chilled bottles of beer and sitting back down beside him. He gave him a little smile as he handed the bottle to him.

Kyle snatched it out of his hand and took a gulp from the bottle, before turning to look at him.

"C'mon then?!" he growled at him, "Let's hear them!"

Heath looked confused and said "Mate?" I..."

"Oh, come on!" laughed Kyle, in a bitter kind of way, "You can do better than that!"

"Mate, I don't know what you…" he began to say…

"Where are the gay jokes?! The kiddie fiddler jokes?!" snapped Kyle, "Where are the jokes about me being some kind of fairy?! I mean… You must have thought all your Christmases had come at once!" He was glaring at Heath now, veins bulging in his neck, as he snarled at him. "I'm disappointed, Heath! You've had years to hone your material. Here's your chance!"

Heath looked shocked and didn't know what to say. "Uh..." he stammered, shaking his head and holding his palms out at Kyle in an attempt to calm him.

Kyle got to his feet and grinned in an anguished sort of way, leaning over him as he spoke.

"You must find this whole thing hilarious!" he taunted, "Looks like you were right about me all along, huh?!"

Heath started to speak. "Kyle! I never..."

"How many times have you called me names, Heath?!" he demanded, "How many times have you called me Kylie?"

"Yeah... okay but... I didn't mean..." stammered Heath.

He was really on the back foot here. He hadn't been expecting such a sudden and furious outburst! He also hadn't realised that calling him those names had wounded him so much. He'd never meant to hurt him!

"Kylie!" continued Kyle, "…Not a real Braxton... Not a River Boy... Couldn't surf... Well, HAHA!... Big joke... It's funny how you don't get to spend a whole lot of time on the beach when you spend your whole childhood locked up in a basement!"

Heath got to his feet and started to move towards him, wanting to put his arms around him. He suddenly looked like a child to him. Like Darcy or Harley, when they were upset about something. There was something so child-like and vulnerable about him in this moment.

Kyle gave him a shove in the middle of the chest, and his eyes filled with tears.

"Brax didn't even call me!" he sobbed, shoving him away from again, "He didn't even call me when he found out... when he found out about _this_!"

"Mate, it..." Heath started to say, but Kyle cut him off.

"He called _you_!" he cried, "He called _you_! He didn't even think I was worth the phone call!"

"It wasn't like that!" said Heath, shaking his head at him.

"What was it like?!" demanded Kyle, arms pulled tightly around his own chest, tears pouring down his cheeks. "My own brother... He finds out... He... Someone _tells_ him something like _that_... and he doesn't even call me?!"

"Mate... he just didn't think he could talk to you over the phone" sighed Heath, "Not about something like this..."

Kyle gave a snort of disgust, and held his arm out in front of him, glaring down at it. It was the one with the 'All or Nothing' tattoo. The black ink seemed to leap out at him, like a silent accusation, and he thought about what his father would have said. He could almost hear his laughter ringing in his ears. Hear his voice calling him a 'dirty little faggot'! The man would have been disgusted with him, homophobic as he was, and probably disowned him. He'd never been so glad that his father wasn't around. He looked back up at Heath, tears brimming in his eyes, and his whole body shaking.

"You never wanted me here..." he said, clenching his fists by his side, "You don't even think of me as your brother... You never did! None of you!"

He stood there shaking in front of him and looked down at his own body with a look of pure revulsion. It was all coming back! All of it, flooding through his mind like a dam bursting. He could feel hands roughly groping at him and hot hairy skin sliding against his own. He could hear the rhythmic grunts of those men, echoing in his mind, like they'd been bouncing around his skull for 13 years. He could smell that mattress, soaked in sweat and body fluids and blood... The thought of it made the bile rise up in his throat.

"You never wanted me to be a part of this family!" he cried, "You never wanted me!"

"That's not true" said Heath, shaking his head adamantly, "I mean... maybe at the start... when you... y'know, with Casey... but not now!"

"I get it" said Kyle, in a much quieter, defeated kind of voice. It didn't seem like he'd registered a single word that Heath had said, "I get it... I do... I know why…"

Heath looked at him in confusion. "Uhhh... what?" he said.

"I mean... why... why would anyone want to be related... to _'this_ '?!"

"Jesus, Kyle..." groaned Heath. There was real concern in his voice. "Why would you ever think...?!"

"Just go home" sighed Kyle, as he stared at the ground in pure misery, "You can tell Brax that you saw me and... and I'm fine..."

"Kyle... you're not fine!" said Heath, taking a few tentative steps towards him, "And I'm not going anywhere..."

"I said 'go home!' yelled Kyle, "I don't want you here!"

"Tough!" said Heath, suddenly stepping forward and trying to put his arms around him. "Come here, mate?" he coaxed softly.

"Get off me!" roared Kyle, his voice breaking into a hoarse cry, as he shoved at him quite violently, "Don't touch me!"

He took a few steps, backing away from him, and hugged both arms across his chest. He was breathing very heavily and was suddenly very aware of how fast his heart was beating. He wanted to let Heath hug him more than anything, needing some sort of comfort, but he couldn't suppress his anger either. He could feel the rage just building inside him, and all he really wanted to do was punch something.

He felt so confused! He didn't really know what he wanted.

Heath watched him as he stood there looking so lost and alone, and felt thoroughly out of his depth. ' _Brax would have known what to do!'_ , he thought, 'Br _ax would have been better at this!'_ But Brax wasn't here! _He_ was all he had!

"Mate, I'm so sorry!" said Heath, as he slowly approached him again. He hesitantly put his hand on his shoulder.

"Get off me!" shouted Kyle, and his fist suddenly flew up and caught Heath in the jaw with a loud smack. He hadn't meant to do it. It was pure reflex, like his fist had a mind of its own!

Heath staggered back a few steps, putting his hands up to protect himself, but when he looked up, he could see Kyle nursing his own bruised fist. It didn't look like he was planning to hit him again.

"I… I'm… sorry" mumbled Kyle, with tears rolling down his cheeks. "I didn't mean it!"

With that, he turned and ran across the garden, and then out the gate.

Heath stood massaging his jaw, and watched his brother go. He wondered whether he should go after him or let him cool down for a while?

He decided to let him have some space and if he wasn't back in a bit he'd go look for him. It wasn't the first time that Kyle had hit him, and he figured with the way that he was dealing with things, that it probably wouldn't be the last. He put his finger in his mouth and looked at the blood when he pulled it back out. Kyle had got him a good dig in the jaw, smashing his lip off his bottom teeth, and he could tell that he was going to have a nasty bruise tomorrow. Right now though, he really didn't care. He just wanted to help Kyle if he could. If that meant letting him take out his frustration on him then maybe that was what he was there for?

He turned and walked wearily back into the house to let Tamara know that Kyle was AWOL. He just hoped that he was going to be okay.

 **iii.**

Kat set a cup of coffee down on Emerson's desk, and carried hers over to her own desk, sitting down with tired sigh. She'd been sifting through the details of the Hames' case, that had been emailed over to her by the lead Detective in the case, but she was finding it hard to make sense of things.

There was no official record of Kyle Braxton, or Bennett, as he'd been known as a child, having been fostered in the Hames' household. His case file had large sections missing. Between the age of eleven, when his mother was known to have died, and thirteen when he was placed in the Summers' care, there was just one big gaping hole.

As far as the Melbourne police had been concerned, 'Kyle Braxton' was a total unknown. Detective Wainwright had gratefully taken Kyle's details when she'd spoken to him, asking if she could get him to contact them directly, and requesting that she get a DNA sample if Kyle was willing. She wasn't clear on why they wanted a sample but he'd been adamant that any and all victims needed to be tested as part of the investigation.

She looked at Kyle's case file from when he'd been placed with the Summers, and pulled out the photo of Kyle as a child. It was a haunting image of an incredibly sad looking little boy. She could certainly see that it was Kyle, but at the same time he looked so different from the man that she knew today.

He had the same big brown eyes and fine features, but there was such a vacant expression on his face, and he wasn't even looking at the camera or smiling. It said in the file that he was thirteen years old in this photo but he looked so much younger, and so very very thin! The black circles around his eyes gave him a very sickly appearance too, which made sense now that she knew where he'd been kept all that time.

The more she looked at it, the more her heart ached for the little boy in the photo, and she imagined reaching out and putting her arms around him. She wanted to tell him that everything was going to be okay. She thought it would take an incredibly cold hearted person to look at that photo and not feel sad for him.

She set it down, and looked through the photos of the basement, with the dark and grimy cells where they kept the children, and she wondered which one had been Kyle's. It made her shudder to think of any child sleeping on a cold cement floor like that, locked away like some sort of prisoner in a medieval castle. How did these things happen in this day and age?!

She pulled out the case file on the woman who was helping with the investigation, and looked at her photo. It had obviously only been taken in the last few weeks while she'd been out of that house. She had brown hair and brown eyes, and a skin tone that looked like she might take a tan if she ever got near the sun.

As it was, she had a sickly yellow tone to her skin, and dark circles around her eyes. She had that same haunted look on her face that Kyle had had in his photo, and she was sitting with her arms pulled around herself and the sleeves on her top pulled down to hide her hands. Everything about the woman in this photo screamed a lack of self-confidence. You could almost see her willing the ground to open up and swallow her, rather than have this photo taken. She wondered how she'd survived 27 years in that house! She felt very sorry for her too.

Being a cop was hard sometimes… She sat with her head resting on her fist and gave an exasperated sigh. Emerson looked across at her and raised his eyebrows.

"You still looking into that Hames' case?" he asked, taking a sip from his coffee cup.

"Yeah, Kyle Braxton" she said, closing the case file and turning to face him. "It's weird… There's no record of him being sent there… but he was supposed to have been placed there through official channels. He wasn't abducted like some of the others… Martin Ashford said that he'd been sent there through the foster care system and that he had members of DoCS actually working his case…" She picked up his file again and flicked through the pages for effect, "There's literally nothing in here about it… It's like someone just removed that part of his file… like there's been some sort of cover-up…"

"Possible…They are investigating DoCS" he said, nodding his head and looking down again at his own paperwork. "There are sickos everywhere, Chapman… Sadly, it's just something you have to get used to in this line of work."

She turned back round to her computer and saw that an email had come through from Detective Wainwright with a request that she get in touch urgently. There was a PDF attachment on the email titled "KB 03-04". She clicked to open it and began to scan read through the details. Her face blanched white as it became clear to her what she was reading. Her heart thumped in her chest as she picked up the phone and called the direct dial number on the end of the email.

"Hello?!" she said, "Detective Wainwright?! …Yes, it's Constable Chapman. I got your email…. This can't be right. There has to be some mistake!?"

 **iv.**

Kyle walked back through the door, looking pretty sheepish, and glanced back and forth between Heath and Tamara. Heath had a bag of peas, wrapped in a tea towel, pressed up against his chin at Tamara's insistence. He gave Kyle a little nod as he walked towards the armchair and sat down.

"I'm sorry" said Kyle, giving him an apologetic shrug of the shoulders. "I just lost it… I shouldn't have hit you."

"I can take it" said Heath, giving him a little smile, despite his swollen lip. "Nothing that won't heal." He set the peas down, and reached over to pat Kyle on the knee.

Tamara shook her head at Kyle a little disapprovingly but then gave him a smile. She understood. Something had had to give sooner or later, and it was better that it was Heath he'd taken his anger out on, and not someone that would press charges against him.

"You guys want a drink of something before bed?" asked Tamara in as bright and airy a voice as she could manage.

She was trying desperately to lighten the mood. She looked at Heath's puffy lip and swollen jaw and smiled a little mischievously.

"Maybe something cold?!" she asked, smirking at him.

"Very funny!" he said, laughing at her and pretending to punch her in the arm.

She got up and went out to the kitchen to put the kettle on, leaving the two boys fidgeting a little uncomfortably in the living-room.

Heath looked at Kyle, and gave him a little half-smile, unsure of what to say to him. He sat forward on the couch, wiping his sweaty hands on his shorts, and feeling incredibly nervous about the speech that he'd been rehearsing in his head for the last couple of hours. He wasn't sure how Kyle was going to take it but it needed to be said. He cleared his throat and looked down at the floor.

"I uh…" he said, faltering already.

Heath had never been good at expressing himself, and he really wasn't good at talking about his feelings with other guys. This was hard! He glanced up at Kyle who was looking equally embarrassed, and then fixed his eyes on the floor again.

"Look, Kyle… I love you, mate…" he said, blushing bright red. "I don't want you to ever think that I don't… I might be an idiot sometimes and say really stupid stuff but that doesn't mean I don't care. You're my little brother… and it… it… it hurts me to know that something so… so horrible happened to you when you were just a little kid…"

He looked up from the floor, and met Kyle's eyes for the first time since he'd started speaking. He was surprised to see tears streaming down his face. He got up and put his arms around him, pulling him into a hug and squeezing him tight. He could feel his body trembling as he sobbed in his arms.

"It's okay, mate" he said, stroking the back of Kyle's head with his hand. "I'm here… Whatever you need… I'm not going anywhere."

Suddenly, Kyle started to laugh, his whole body shaking as he began to giggle. He wasn't really sure why. It just seemed so surreal that Heath had been so totally sincere in his declaration of brotherly love. That he was hugging him like this! He didn't think that they'd ever really hugged before. Even when Heath had moved away to the city, he and Heath had shaken hands, while he'd hugged both Brax and Casey.

He'd always thought that Heath had been the one that had accepted him the least. He'd never really felt that he thought of him as a brother, but rather some inconvenient 'accident' that happened to be related to him. Brax had been the one to really take him under his wing and look after him. Even Casey had ended up behaving more like a brother than Heath, and they weren't even really related, as it had turned out!

He was surprised and more than a little amused at this sudden show of affection on Heath's part.

"You'd better let me go" said Kyle, giggling and smiling through his tears. "Tamara's gonna get jealous!"

Heath let him go, and went back to sit on the couch with an embarrassed little smile. Before they could say anything more, there was a loud knock at the door, and they both turned to look.

"Hey Kat" said Kyle, wiping at the tears in his eyes and blushing red with embarrassment. He sat up, suddenly feeling very tense again. "I'm really not…" he said, thinking that she didn't look very friendly, "I can't…"

She was in uniform and looking very serious. That's when he noticed that there was another officer standing behind her in the doorway.

"What's going on?!" he asked, getting to his feet and looking at Kat with a shocked expression on his face.

"We're going to need you to come down to the station" she said, looking at him apologetically.

"What?!" exclaimed Heath, getting to his feet now too, "Why?! What's he done!"

"We need you to answer some questions" she said, ignoring Heath and taking hold of Kyle's arm by the elbow, "I'm sorry about this…"

She began leading him towards the door. As she caught sight of Tamara, standing open mouthed on the other side of the room with their tiny baby in her arms, she threw her a sympathetic look. Sometimes she really hated her job…


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

 **i.**

Kyle stared around the interview room, fidgeting in the chair, and wondering how long he was going to have to sit here on his own before someone explained to him what was going on. He knew that they liked to let the suspect sweat before they came to interview them, but surely this was different? _This_ time he was the victim. _This_ time he hadn't done anything wrong!

He didn't understand why he was being treated like this.

Kat had told him that a detective from Melbourne was flying in to interview him, and that he'd have to sit here and wait until he got here (however long that took). She'd been acting very strangely, avoiding eye contact with him, and flat out refusing to explain what was going on.

He'd heard Heath and Tamara yelling outside, so he knew that they'd followed him down here, but they hadn't been allowed to come in. Of course, he'd been questioned by the police many times before, (what Braxton hadn't?!) so he was no stranger to a police interview room… but this was different. This time they wanted him to talk about something deeply private. Something that he didn't want to… _couldn't_ … talk about. Something too painful. Something that really hurt.

As sooky as it might be, he desperately wanted Tamara to come in and hold his hand.

The more he thought about the questions that they were going to ask him, the more he began to panic. He could feel his whole body shaking as he sat there on the plastic chair and leaned on the table.

' _Get it together, Kyle!'_ he told himself, as he jittered his knee up and down, _'You're a Braxton! This is nothing fuckin' new!'_

But it was new. This was about what had happened _'before'_. He didn't talk about _'before_ '. That had always been off-limits.

He didn't understand why he was being treated like a suspect either, and how they thought that they just could force him to talk. Didn't victims have rights?!

There was a two-way mirror on one of the walls, and he hated the thought that people could be out there now, just watching squirm. It was making him feel even more anxious than he already was. He tried to keep his eyes fixed on the table, unable to even look himself in the eye. Not when he was going to have to talk about _this_! Not _this_!

He didn't want to talk about it with anyone. He didn't want to have to say those words out loud to total strangers. Or worse still, to have Kat know those things about him.

The thought of it was making him feel sick.

He got up and began to pace the room in the hope that moving might help to ease the rising wave of nausea in his stomach. He could feel the panic taking hold now as every inch of his body told him to get out and start running. The adrenalin was coursing through his bloodstream and he could feel his heart thumping.

He spun around when Kat opened the door. She was carrying a can of Coke and a packet of potato chips for him. She gave him a sympathetic little head tilt because she could see how nervous he was.

"Can you sit down, please, Kyle?" she said to him, setting the drink and chips on the table for him.

"Kat, can you just tell me what's going on?!" he asked a little breathlessly. He had his fists clenched at his sides and was noticeably shaking. "I mean…" he continued, "What is it you think I've done? Do I need a lawyer or something?"

Kat shook her head and said, "You're not under arrest Kyle… They just need your help with some enquiries…"

"If I'm not under arrest then I can just leave, can't I?" said Kyle.

He was fairly well-versed at this stage in the rules that the police had to follow. He started to move towards the door. The need to get out of this room right now was overwhelming.

"Sit down, Kyle!" said Kat, catching his wrist and pulling him back into his seat by force. "You need to stay until you've been interviewed… Trust me, it'll be better if you co-operate."

"Co-operate?!" he said, looking up at her in confusion, "I don't... I don't understand what's going on?!"

Suddenly the door opened and a middle-aged man with grey hair and a crumpled suit walked in. He sat down, and without even a pause, he pressed record on the tape recorder beside him.

"Kyle Braxton interview commencing 23:55 at Yabbie Creek Police Station, with Detective Wainwright and Constable Chapman."

He leaned back in his chair and nodded at the chair beside him for Kat to sit down. As she took her place, the man continued to look Kyle up and down with what almost looked like a smirk.

"Could you please state your name for the recording?" he asked, eyes locked with Kyle's in a challenging sort of way, "And your date of birth?"

Kyle couldn't help frowning a little. There was something about the way this man was looking at him that put him on edge. There was nothing kind about his gaze.

"K-Kyle Braxton" he stammered, wiping his sweaty hands on the legs of his jeans, "12th... 12th December 1990"

There was something odd about the way that Wainwright looked at him then, his mouth curling up at one side. He really didn't like this man.

"Kyle, I'm Detective Wainwright" he said, staring at him again for an uncomfortable length of time before continuing. It was like he was sizing him up or actively trying to unnerve him.

"Now, I have to say…" he smiled, when he finally continued speaking, "When Constable Chapman here told me about you, I didn't even know that you existed. But some things have come to light now, and I can't lie, I'm very interested to meet you"

He gave him another little smile, and set a thick brown folder down on the table.

"Very interested indeed!" he said.

Kyle gave him a quizzical look and wondered at his tone. He didn't sound like he was in any way sympathetic to his plight and seemed to be viewing him with suspicion and a look of distaste. His mind raced, as he wondered what he could possibly have done to warrant this kind of treatment. Surely, he wasn't in trouble for the things that had happened in that house?! He'd only been a child. He hadn't had a choice!

"W-What?" he stammered, unsure of what to say. "…What… What d-do you want from me?"

"An explanation would be a good start!" said Wainwright.

"An explanation?" repeated Kyle. He really didn't understand this.

Wainwright smirked again as he opened the file and pulled a large brown envelope out. He delved inside and pulled out a stack of photos, before sliding one of them across the table to Kyle. It was a magnified image showing a serial number imprinted into some kind of metal object.

He looked at it in confusion, without the faintest understanding of what the object was, and then looked back up at Detective Wainwright.

"I don't… I don't know what this is" he said, shaking his head. "What's this got to do with me?"

"Nothing" said Wainwright, shaking his head and chuckling in a way that seemed threatening to Kyle. "That's exactly the point!"

 **ii.**

 _13 years ago…_

 _The man dragged Kyle by the arm up the steep steps, digging his fingernails into his flesh, and pulling at him roughly as they went. Kyle looked up, feeling dizzy and disoriented, at the wide open space around him. They were outside an old house that he'd never seen before. It was a wooden house, with green peeling paint and dirty sash windows, but it looked like it might have been beautiful once, when someone had cared for it._

 _The man knocked on the door and waited. Kyle stood shaking beside him on the porch, terrified at the prospect of what lay beyond this door, but maybe just as frightened of the vastness of the world out here._

 _He couldn't understand what had just happened and no-one seemed to want to take the time to explain it to him. Not that that surprised him. No-one had ever taken his feelings into account before. No-one had ever explained anything to him, or given him any kind of say in what happened to him. Why should this be any different?!_

 _They'd taken him away from his 'home'! Just ripped him away!_

 _He'd been inside that car, with two men and a woman, for what felt like a very long time. Long enough for him to vomit three times! They hadn't spoken to him very much, other than issuing orders, and dragging him about the place. They'd stopped outside a different building and pulled him inside with them. All he knew was that it had very bright lights and a number of those 'computer' things that Jessica and Simon liked to use so much._

 _He'd been made to sit in a seat while they typed up documents and printed them out. The woman took photos of him and printed those too._

 _"I got that medical report" said the woman, looking up at the man who'd taken him from the house, 'Dr Phillips… He's always a good bet… Clean bill of health."_

 _He watched as she then slipped some pink sheets of paper inside the folder._

 _"Good" said the man , "Should stop that woman dragging him off to see a doctor."_

 _The man walked over to him and grabbed his hair, yanking his head back to make him look up at him._

 _"I wouldn't go crying about any of your 'boo boos'" he growled at him, "There's nothing wrong with you, boy! …Whinging's just gonna make people angry… No-one likes a moany little shit! …So, you make sure that no-one sees your bruises… You just keep that mouth of yours shut, or you know what'll happen!" He yanked his head back again and shook him roughly. "You hear me?!"_

 _He nodded quickly. These were rules that he understood._

 _He didn't know how long he'd been made to sit there, but once they'd got the brown folder full of paper and photos, they dragged him back onto his feet and shoved him back in the car._

 _He'd felt like his head was spinning!_

 _Now, here he was, standing outside another door, wondering what waited on the other side._

 _Nothing good, he supposed..._

 _He looked at the cracked white paint on the door in front of him and wondered if this is where all the other kids had gone when they'd disappeared from the house. One day you were there, and the next day you weren't!_

 _(Simon liked to scare the kids that were left behind, with horror stories, and threats of violence. He'd tell them their friends had been ground up as hamburger meat or fed to the dogs. That they were dead and that they were never coming back. That that was what happened to kids who were bad. That's what happened when you didn't do as you were told!)_

 _Problem was, he didn't know what he'd done wrong?!_

 _The door suddenly opened, and a man in a filthy white singlet and boxer shorts pushed the screen door open, and leaned against the door-frame. He had a lit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth._

 _"Yeah?" he asked, glancing down at Kyle with interest._

 _"Is Jackie Braxton here?" asked the man, gripping the boy's shoulder a little too roughly and hurting him. "This is her nephew."_

 _The dishevelled looking man turned and yelled, "Jackie, the kid's here!" before walking away and letting the screen door bang shut._

 _A rough looking woman, who looked to be in her early fifties, walked towards the door wiping wet soapy hands on her tracksuit bottoms. She pushed open the screen again and looked down at the boy standing in front of her._

 _"This is him, is it?" she said, in a hoarse smoker's voice._

 _She put her hand out and lifted his chin but he continued to stare at the floor. She looked back at the man standing beside him._

 _"What's wrong with him?!" she asked, with a look of disdain, "Is he simple or something?!"_

 _"No, he's just a bit quiet" said the man, giving him a shove through the doorway._

 _Jackie took hold of his elbow and led him through to the living-room and over to the couch. She pushed on his shoulders to make him sit. He couldn't help wincing a little as he sat down but they didn't seem to notice._

 _Jackie stood looking at him with her hands on her hips._

 _"So, you're Kyle!?" she asked, "Danny's little boy!?"_

 _She tilted her head at him, and looked him up and down, eyes narrowed in a suspicious sort of way. Then she turned to look at the man that had brought him here._

 _"He doesn't look like Danny…" she said, a little accusingly, "…Or anyone else in our family…?"_

 _The man shrugged and nodded a little._

 _"Must look like his mother then?" he said, handing her the brown folder. "This is his case file, there's a photo of the mother in there."_

 _Jackie took it from him, glancing at it a little scathingly, before throwing it on top of the coffee table unopened. It landed among the empty beer cans and used ash trays._

 _"Piece of trash, that Bennett girl…" she growled, "Smackhead, from what I heard! Men coming and going at all hours... Who's to say he's even Danny's?!"_

 _She caught herself, and looked down a little guiltily at the boy cowering on the sofa._

 _"Although…" she said, making her voice a little softer, "I shouldn't speak ill of the dead, I suppose..."_

 _She nodded her head towards the couch to tell the man to sit down. He moved a cigarette lighter and pack of cigarette papers from the cushion beside Kyle and threw them on the table. Then he sat down and put his hand on the top of the boy's head, ruffling his hair, and giving Jackie a big smile._

 _"Kyle's a good boy" he said, "Very quiet, but I don't think he'll give you any trouble." He looked at Kyle and gave him a smile, "Now, you'll be good for your Auntie Jackie, won't you Kyle?"_

 _Jackie asked if the man wanted a cup of tea and turned to go and make it before he even got a chance to answer. He put his hand on Kyle's knee and gave it a cruel squeeze, digging his fingers into the flesh until the boy made a little squeak, his eyes wide with fear._

 _"Now, you remember what Simon said!" sneered the man, as he stuck his tongue out at him with a wink. "I'll be keeping a close eye on you!"_

 _Jackie came back with a tray with three cups of tea, and set them on the messy coffee table in front of them. The cups looked chipped and a bit grimy. The man eyed his cup with distaste._

 _"You know what?" he said, "I'm actually late for another appointment, so I'll have to skip the tea… Thank you though." He got up to leave, and smiled at Kyle. "But remember, Kyle, I'll be back to check that you're behaving yourself!" he warned, "You remember what I said to you."_

 _After he'd gone, Jackie flopped down on the couch beside Kyle and tried to make eye contact with him, but he wouldn't look at her._

 _"How do you take your tea?" she asked, reaching forward to pick his mug up off the table. There was a bag of sugar with a sugar-encrusted spoon stuck in the top. "Do you take sugar?" she asked._

 _He just stared at the floor._

 _Suddenly, the dirty looking man reappeared in the doorway and leaned against the door-frame, cigarette in one hand, mug of tea in the other._

 _Kyle stole a glance at him out of the corner of his eye. There was a noticeable wet patch on his boxers. He'd just been to the toilet, but Kyle interpreted it as something else entirely. He was scared, and disgusted, but resigned at the same time. There was no point in fighting. The man was nearly twice his size. He obviously wouldn't win_

 _'Maybe Simon and Jessica sold me?' he thought to himself, 'That would make sense...' Simon had threatened him often enough._

 _He returned his attention to the floor and sat waiting for the inevitable 'invitation' to come back to one of the bedrooms. The thought of it made his skin itch and bile rise up in his throat._

 _"Come on, Kyle!" said Jackie, waving the mug of tea under his nose, "Aren't you gonna talk to your Auntie Jackie?!"_

 _Kyle didn't answer. He didn't even look at her._

 _"Looks like you've got yourself a real retard!" chuckled the scruffy man, "Fat lotta use he's gonna be around here... Can't even talk!"_

 _"Shut up, you!" she scowled at him, before turning back to the boy on the sofa. "You **can** talk, can't you, Kyle?" she said with a little wink, "Or has the cat got your tongue?"_

 _His eyes widened in fear at that. They obviously knew about Simon's threats... and they were testing him!_

 _He clenched his teeth, and clamped his lips together tight. They weren't going to get his tongue without a struggle! He was never going to talk again. Not ever!_

 _He didn't doubt for a second that Simon would cut his tongue out, but he didn't know what this woman was capable of. He didn't know who she was, or what connection she had to Simon, but she'd just threatened him! In no uncertain terms._ _That much, he understood_.

 _She'd called herself 'Auntie', but words like that had lost all meaning to him. He'd had lots of 'Aunties' in the past, and more 'Uncles' than he could count. Those names had always been used to hurt him... and this woman was obviously no different._

 _He also couldn't figure out why they kept calling him that name. He didn't remember ever having a name before. He'd been 'Boy' and 'Kid', and sometimes 'Baby', said in a way that made his skin crawl. There was even one man who liked to call him all sorts of disgusting names... but he didn't think that he'd ever really had a name. Nothing like 'Kyle' anyway..._

 _It didn't matter though._ _He didn't really care what he was called, as long as they weren't going to hurt him (too much), and he figured that the only way he could protect himself was to keep his mouth shut._

 ** _iii._**

Wainwright took a pen out of the inside pocket of his jacket and tapped it repetitively on the table. "I tell you what, Kyle" he said, "Why don't I tell you what I know about Kyle Bennett, A.K.A. 'Braxton'?"

He opened the file in front of him again and cleared his throat a little theatrically.

"Let's see now… Kyle Bennett was born on 12th December 1990 to a woman called Sarah Bennett. Single mother, bit of a substance abuse problem, lots of men coming and going within the home. Links to a local pimp who often hung around the house too… Father, Danny Braxton, career criminal. In and out of prison so many times you'd lose count…"

Kyle, of course, knew all of this, and wondered where the Detective was going with it. He didn't like the man already, and he glanced at Kat hoping that she might be able to help him out here. She just stared at him passively and then looked away unable to maintain eye contact. He really couldn't understand why this was being conducted like an interrogation rather than an interview with a victim.

"Here's where it gets very interesting, Kyle…" he continued, "You don't mind me calling you 'Kyle', do you?"

Kyle just shrugged.

The detective pulled out some A4 pieces of paper and what looked like a photocopy of an x-ray.

"See, Kyle Bennett…" he said, enunciating the two names slowly for emphasis, "Well, he had a very nasty accident when he was five years old… A broken arm when he 'fell down the stairs'…"

He did the inverted commas sign with two fingers on each hand. It obviously hadn't been an accident.

"Strangely enough" he continued, "That little 'accident' coincided with one of his father's stints in the outside world… Very nasty injury…"

He slid the photocopy of the x-ray across the table to Kyle and nodded at it. It showed a forearm with what almost looked like scaffolding to hold the bones together. A long plate with screws to hold it in place.

"Little Kyle had to go to hospital and have the bones reset." he said, nodding at the piece of paper now on the table, "He had a surgical procedure done… 6 internal fixation screws were inserted… and a metal plate to hold the bones together… Just like the one in that photo I gave you".

Kyle looked at it, furrowing his eyebrows, as he felt down the bones in each arm. He knew that he'd had a broken arm before, when he was little (maybe even more than once?) but he didn't remember having metal put in there. Or being taken to the hospital for that matter… But then maybe he just didn't remember?! He half expected to feel the screws inside there, as though he might just never have noticed them. He looked back up at the Detective.

"But I… I don't think…" he stammered, "I mean… I…"

"The interesting thing about any medical implant…" said Wainwright, cutting him off. "…is that any little bit of metal the surgeons put in you… well, they all have a tiny, barely visible, serial number on them… It means that we can trace the part to the patient"

Sliding the two A4 pages across the table, and raising his eyebrows at Kyle, he said, "So, I suppose the real question is this. Why did we find those surgical fixation screws, registered to 'Kyle Bennett', in the bones of a murdered child found at the house in Melbourne?"

Kyle stared at the pages in front of him, seeing his own name entered on the documents. A coroner's report detailing the circumstances of his death at the age of 13. The death certificate had his name printed on it, clear as day: 'KYLE BENNETT', 'Date of Death: March 2004', 'Cause of death: Homicide'.

His world felt like it was tilting on its axis. He felt like he was suffocating, like his whole respiratory system had simply stalled.

"B-but… this… this doesn't…" he began to stammer out.

His heartbeat was thudding in his ears as a whirlwind of long-suppressed memories swirled around his mind. He was trying desperately to join the dots.

"Kyle Bennett is dead…" stated Wainwright, sliding a final piece of paper across the desk. It was a photo of the skeletal remains of a young boy. "He died 13 years ago" he added, "Murdered."

Kyle gasped and looked away. He didn't want to look at it! It was a horribly confronting sight.

"Those are his remains" continued Wainwright, "And those remains are currently sitting on a table at the City Morgue in Melbourne."

The metal plate secured by 6 little screws could clearly be seen in the bones of the forearm.

"That is a photo of the metal implants" said Wainwright, jabbing his finger at it to emphasise his point, and make Kyle look at it again, "Implants that this little boy had in his arm…"

He sat back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest and stared at him coldly.

Kyle stared down at the name on the piece of paper, his eyes nervously flitting to the horrible image of the small boy's skeleton. He couldn't stop looking at it, even though it was making his stomach churn. He couldn't stop himself.

' _Kyle Bennett is dead?_ ' he said in his own head, ' _But... I'm Kyle Bennett… aren't I?_ '

He stared at it. But he couldn't make any sense of it. Could there have been two Kyle Bennetts in that house?

That seemed unlikely.

Surely, the Detective had it wrong then? The skeleton in that photo couldn't be Kyle Bennett... because... because...

...because...

But then, suddenly, with a terrible jolt, he realised what the Detective was trying to tell him.

He _WASN'T_ Kyle Bennett!

It was like a delayed reaction. As though his brain had gradually been gathering the information but taking its time to file it away. But now it hit him like a freight train... The room began to spin…

He wasn't Kyle Bennett!

He _wasn't_ Kyle Bennett…

He'd _never_ been Kyle Bennett…

And deep down, he'd always known that…

"So?" said Detective Wainwright, with a sarcastic curl of his lip, "I think you might forgive me for asking… Seeing as you're not who you say you are… _Not_ Kyle Bennett… and definitely not Kyle Braxton…"

Kyle looked up at him with a dazed sort of expression before looking back at all the pages in front of him. His heart was hammering. His world was collapsing and this man seemed to think it was funny?

"Who are you?" asked Wainwright, "And why are you going around pretending to be someone you're not?!"


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

 **i.**

"Who are you?" repeated Wainwright, slamming his hand on the table to get Kyle's attention. He'd just kind of zoned out.

Kyle gave a little jump and looked up at him in a startled way. Even so, he didn't look like he was 'all there'. It was just a physical reaction; the lights had gone out behind his eyes.

"Well?!" asked Wainwright, letting his impatience come through in his voice, "Who are you?!"

Kyle looked down at the table again. He was holding the coroner's report, but the paper was fluttering violently in his hand because he was shaking so badly.

"Answer me!" bellowed Wainwright, jumping up and leaning over him threateningly with both fists on the table.

"B-boy!" gasped Kyle, as he flinched and cowered back. He looked every inch the abused child just waiting to be beaten.

"Boy?" repeated Wainwright, narrowing his eyes at him. He wasn't sure that he'd heard correctly. "Is that what you said?"

"B-boy" he stammered again, his voice hoarse and choked with emotion, "J- just 'Boy'… I… I think… I th …I think so…"

"You're saying your name is 'Boy'?" asked Wainwright, with a ' _what the hell is he talking about?!_ ' glance at Kat. She pulled at his arm and made him sit down again. "Is that a nickname?" he asked, "A name people know you by?"

Kyle just shrugged. He was looking at the certificate in his hand again, eyes glazed and vacant.

"We don't understand" said Kat, "You're saying your name is 'Boy'?"

"That... That's what they c-called me" he whispered, dropping the paper on the table and hugging his arms around himself.

"They called you 'Boy'?" asked Kat, with a confused glance at Wainwright, "Who, Kyle? Who called you that?"

He just nodded, as he stared at the documents in front of him, and began to rock back and forth in his chair. He hadn't done that since he was a child.

"I... I was bad" he whispered, almost inaudibly, "I don't know… I ...they... they said I was bad..."

His brain was a whirl of distant memories, but he couldn't be sure of what was real and what wasn't. How much of what he knew about his life was a lie, and how much had he invented?!

When they'd dragged him out of that house all those years ago, things had changed so quickly. He'd been given a new life, a second chance… and the 'Boy' had been left behind. He'd been left to rot in that basement, and 'Kyle Bennett' had been born. Like a 'reinvention'! They'd renamed him like you'd rename a dog. Some scruffy little stray that you get at the shelter... _'Come here boy! Your new name is 'Kyle'! You'd like that, wouldn't you?!'_

When his foster parents had opened that brown folder, and started telling him those made-up stories about things that had happened in his past, (things that couldn't possibly have happened), he'd listened to them, wide-eyed in wonder, like a child listens to a fairy-tale. He hadn't believed them at first. Of course, he hadn't. He'd known they were lies. That they were wrong...

But _they_ wouldn't listen… No-one would listen when he told them they were wrong… They'd just kept repeating the stories...over and over... and they'd seemed to want to believe them so much...

How could he argue with them? He didn't want to make them sad…

Or worse still, what if he made them angry?! What if they got angry and they sent him back?!

He'd gone along with it to make his foster parents happy... and to keep himself safe...

But then, after a while, he'd begun to think that maybe they were true?! That maybe they _were_ right, and he was the one who was wrong? He'd always been told how bad he was. Maybe they were right about him? Maybe he _was_ bad? And maybe that was why he was arguing with them?

Maybe he _had_ only been in that basement for two years? Maybe it just seemed like a lot longer because it had been so horrible? Maybe he _had_ had a mother and father at one point in his life? And maybe he'd even been a normal kid once? Maybe he just didn't remember any of it because he didn't want to? Because losing his mother like that had been too painful? Or maybe it was because of all the beatings? Those people had hit him in the head enough times… Maybe he had brain damage?

Maybe there was a reasonable explanation for all of this?

Besides, those make-believe stories were much nicer than the truth...

...And there were some definite advantages to being 'Kyle'!

...And so many good things about not being 'Boy'. Things that his former self could never have even dreamt of...

So many good things!

'Kyle' had two loving parents, who cared for him, and didn't hurt him, and who did things like throwing him birthday parties, and taking him camping, and letting him eat pizza and ice-cream... He got to go to the park, and he got to play, and read, and learn guitar... and _talk_ … and do all sorts of amazing things…

'Kyle' got to be _normal_.

He didn't know who this 'Kyle' was, or why these people seemed to think that he was him, but he knew 'one thing' for sure! He did NOT want to be 'Boy' again! He couldn't go back there. He would rather die.

So, he'd accepted his new identity and never looked back. In many ways, 'Boy' really had stayed behind in that basement. He'd been lost and forgotten, and buried there, along with all the painful memories that went with him.

So, 'Kyle' had moved forward without him and built a new life... He had erased as much of the old one as he could, and simply started again... He'd tried not to remember. He'd refused to talk about it. He'd tried to pretend that it had never happened… and little by little, the memories had become muddled together, until he didn't know which ones were true and which ones were invented.

In the end, he hadn't cared.

He'd become Kyle Bennett. A boy with a father, and half-brothers… and a life to be lived… and he'd stopped questioning… He'd started to _believe_ …

He'd _chosen_ to believe...

But he could see it all clearly now!

He wasn't Kyle Bennett… Someone else was Kyle Bennett… and he was just 'Boy'.

…He'd always been 'Boy'!

He'd been living someone else's life for all these years, coveting their identity, and stealing the life that they should have had! Worse than that! He'd become so deluded that he hadn't even realized he was doing it!

Everything that he knew about himself, or thought he knew, about his identity and his bloodline, had been a lie. He wasn't a Bennett and he wasn't a Braxton. He had no idea who he was!

The rug had just been pulled out from below his feet, and the only sense of belonging he'd ever had in this unbelievably shit life of his, had just been taken from him. He had nothing now!

All that was left was that filthy, used, and broken little boy cowering in the dark.

He'd been worthless then, and he was worthless now.

He knew that the Detective was speaking to him but he couldn't concentrate on what he was saying. Just a sneering red face and meaty fists pounding on the table. He was saying something about fingerprint systems, and DNA tests, and fraudulent behaviour? Maybe something about Danny Braxton? …He couldn't be sure. It was all just a warbled nonsense…

He started to try to get to his feet with no clear idea of what he was going to do. He felt strange and lightheaded, as the room began to spin. His chest hurt. Was he having a heart attack?! He knew that he should sit down before he fell, but a basic animal instinct was telling him that he needed fresh air. Maybe that would make him feel better?

He stepped away from the table and began staring around the room, wide-eyed with fear. People were talking to him. There were voices in the background, murmuring softly, but he had no idea what they were saying. It all just sounded like he was under water.

Were there hands on his arms? Was someone shaking him?!

There was a face in front of him now, tanned and pretty, and he could see that the mouth was moving. Nice white teeth. Why couldn't he understand what she was saying?! Why couldn't he concentrate?!

"Kyle, listen to me!" said Kat, holding him by both arms, "You need to calm down!"

He was clearly having a panic attack. He wasn't breathing properly.

His eyes were dazed and vacant. He was looking all around him as though she and the detective weren't even there.

"Get some help!" she said to Wainwright, who rolled his eyes but got up and went outside anyway. She heard him shouting to one of the other constables at the desk.

"Kyle?" she said, putting her hand on the side of his face, "Can you look at me?!"

He looked straight at her but his eyes seemed to be staring through her. He was violently shaking and his chest was heaving in and out in a tight sort of way, as he struggled for breath. He looked like he might collapse at any moment.

"Kyle? …Are you okay?" she asked somewhat redundantly. She knew that he wasn't.

He tried to pull away from her. His heart was going like a jackhammer and having someone hold his arms like this was just making him panic even more.

' _I have nothing left'_ he said to himself, as he realized his whole life was a lie.

He'd never had any real memories. He had flashes of images of days on the beach, and barbecues, and some woman with dark hair singing him to sleep at night. There were smells and tastes, and things that he thought were from before that house… But he could see now that they were probably false memories, created from things that he'd seen on TV, and built around the stories told to him by the Summers, and by Danny Braxton.

They weren't real!

At least... they weren't real for him…

They were Kyle Bennett's memories. Memories that he'd stolen from him, or created for him, and taken as his own.

His real life had been that dark, cold basement. His childhood had been filled with pain and misery, (and nothing but that) for as long as he could remember. He'd probably never felt the sun on his face or been outside before that day that they'd come to take him away. He'd probably lived his whole life in that dungeon… and he'd probably never even had a name!

'Boy'.

That's all he was.

But what was he going to do now?! Who was he?! Where had he come from?! Where would he go from here?!

He tried to take a breath but he couldn't…. His chest just felt so tight... Something was obviously wrong… The more he tried, the more it hurt. It felt like his heart was going to burst…

He knew that Kat was saying something to him again but he couldn't concentrate on what it was. The world seemed deafening and muffled at the same time. He couldn't think.

The room was spinning, so fast now, like being on a fairground ride… and he couldn't make it stop…

"Kyle!" shouted Kat, as he began to stagger.

Suddenly his world went black, and the floor rose up to meet him.

 **ii.**

"All done!" said Nate, snipping the thread neatly and looking at Kyle with concern, "Five stitches".

He cleaned the wound on his forehead with an antiseptic wipe and then covered it with a small bandage. Then he took his gloves off.

"We're going to keep you in tonight, Kyle." he said, patting him on the shoulder gently. "That was a nasty knock you took to the head and I just want to be on the safe side."

Kyle stared at the wall. He hadn't spoken much since he'd woken up and Nate was becoming increasingly worried about him. According to Kat, and the Melbourne detective that had come with him in the ambulance, he'd hit his head on the table in the interview room. They were adamant that he'd simply fainted, but Kyle's behaviour was beginning to ring alarm bells, and made him wonder if there hadn't been some police 'persuasion' involved.

He just seemed very withdrawn. He didn't seem to be suffering any neurological damage, as far as they could see, and they'd even sent him for a CT scan just to be sure, but he was quieter than usual. He would only answer the most basic questions.

This was more like severe traumatic shock.

Someone from psychiatry was coming down to do an assessment in the morning but for now they were just going to keep a close eye on him. Tamara and Heath were out in the hallway, as were Kat and the detective, so he thought he'd better go and fill them in on how Kyle was doing.

"I'll go and let everyone know that you're okay" said Nate, giving Kyle's shoulder a little squeeze, "Then maybe Tamara can come in and sit with you?"

Kyle just nodded slowly and stared out the window.

Tamara and Heath both raced towards Nate as soon as he set foot outside the room, both clamouring for answers, and he could see Kat and the detective sitting in the waiting area. Josh and Evie had arrived too. He held his hands up for them to quieten down and led them all back into the waiting area.

"He's okay" said Nate, giving Tamara as reassuring a smile as he could manage. "At least… physically he's doing okay. He needed a few stitches for the laceration on his forehead but other than that, he's okay. No concussion, as far as we can see… so nothing to be too worried about."

"Can we see him?" asked Tamara, looking up at him with big worried eyes.

"Yes, but just you and Heath, for now, okay?" he said, motioning with his head for them to go on up the hallway. He gave Evie a smile and said, "You and Josh should go home. You can visit in the morning."

He looked at Kat a little suspiciously.

"Given that he _fainted_ " he said, "…we'll be keeping him in tonight and I'd ask that you give him some space."

He turned to address the detective directly and frowned at him.

"I can't allow any more questioning tonight" he said, "We'll see how he's doing in the morning."

Then turning to Kat, he said, "Can I have a word?"

Kat followed him into one of the family rooms and he closed the door behind them. He crossed his arms across his chest and rocked on the balls of his feet.

"What happened _really_ , Kat?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

"What do you mean?" she answered defensively. "He _fainted_. That's what happened… And I don't appreciate the insinuation..."

"Well, _something_ happened…" said Nate, interrupting her. "He's not talking and he's displaying all the classic signs of shock… so something happened to him while he was in your custody… and… Kat, I want to know what I'm dealing with!"

"It's confidential Nate, I can't tell you… You can understand that…" she said quietly. Her face softening a little, she said, "He's just heard some very disturbing news and I guess he's still reeling… I'd keep a close eye on him."

He nodded at her in a slightly frustrated way, knowing that she wasn't going to fill him in properly, and wondering what news Kyle could have received that would have him behaving this way. It was like someone had just died.

A terrible thought crossed his mind, that it might be to do with Brax or Ricky, but he knew that he couldn't ask Kat about it, and risk blowing their cover. Ricky had hurt him terribly but that didn't mean that he wanted to hurt her. He'd never understand why she chose to go on the run with Brax, and live that kind of life, but he wouldn't betray her to the police either. If he was going to find out, it was going to have to be from Kyle. He just hoped that he was wrong.

"What is this about wanting a DNA test?" he asked, trying another angle.

She hadn't explained why Kyle had been taken in for questioning in the first place. Detective Wainwright had asked if the hospital could facilitate a DNA test, and work in collaboration with investigators in Melbourne, since Kyle was already here.

Kat grimaced a little. "There's an investigation in Melbourne and Kyle _might_ be involved. They're asking for DNA samples… Nate, I really can't tell you any more than that!"

Nate started to put two and two together. There had been endless news coverage in the last few weeks about the Hames case and multiple appeals for information.

"Is it the Hames case?!" he exclaimed, "Is Kyle involved in that?!" His behaviour suddenly began to make a lot more sense.

She nodded, looking guilty for disclosing this to him. "Look, I can't talk about it right now, but it looks like he might have been one of the victims… or… we don't know yet."

"Kat, I need to know what I'm dealing with here! If Kyle suffered sexual abuse as a child, then I need to know! I've got a psych consultation scheduled tomorrow morning. We need to know the background…"

"I can't, Nate…" she said, giving him an apologetic look and then heading for the door. "Just keep a close eye on him, okay?"

 **iii.**

Back at the station, Kat sat down heavily in the chair at her desk, and gave an exasperated sigh.

"You didn't have to be so hard on him, you know!" she huffed, "Do you speak to all the victims like that?!"

Wainwright sat down on the corner of her desk and frowned at her.

"How do you know that he's really a victim?" he asked, picking up Kyle's case file.

"I think I've seen enough over the last couple of days to know!" she said, glaring back at him, "And I don't think there was anything fake about that panic attack!" She was angry at how things had gone tonight and felt guilty about how badly Kyle had been treated.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that" sneered Wainwright, "Some of these people are very gifted actors."

"Oh, come on!" she groaned, " _These_ people?!"

"He wouldn't be the first to _'accidentally'_ faint to get out of questioning." said Wainwright.

"That's not what happened!" she replied, "You just spent 20 minutes intimidating a scared and vulnerable victim… and… God only knows what he went through in that house! I kept quiet in there because you outrank me, but I can't bite my tongue any longer… That was a terrible thing that we just did!"

"Have you finished?" said Wainwright, smirking at her a little. "Let me ask you this; Why would a thirteen-year-old boy go along with taking someone else's identity? I mean, by thirteen you would know what your name is, who your parents are, where you come from… I find it hard to believe that he would just forget who he was."

"Ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome?" she asked, ""Maybe they brainwashed him?!"

Wainwright just snorted and then flicked open the case file.

"How do we know that he was ever even in that house?" he asked, "What do you really know about this man, this man walking around with a dead boy's name?"

"So, what?!" she challenged, "You think a thirteen-year-old boy orchestrated some sort of cover-up for a murder, and then stole the other kid's identity? …What?!"

"No, what I think, is that 'Kyle' here, maybe spent some time in prison with Danny Braxton and got mixed up with him?"

He flicked to the part of his file that dealt with his kidnapping of Casey Braxton and subsequent suspended sentence.

"He seems to have done pretty well out of this whole Braxton connection…" he mused, "With Danny conveniently out of the picture, there was no-one to put them straight, was there?"

She furrowed her brow at him. That seemed like one hell of a leap!

"So!" he continued, "He just slotted himself in quite nicely to their little crime family, didn't he? …I mean, they don't even seem to have questioned his connection at all… No DNA tests… He just showed up and told them he was their brother…"

"I don't think that's exactly how it went down" said Kat.

"No!" he laughed, "You're right there! From what I heard, he tried to kill his youngest brother, and they still welcomed him with open arms?! An interesting bunch, these Braxtons!"

"He was grieving for his father" she reasoned, "I think he had a kind of… a breakdown, I guess you'd call it."

"Uh-huh" he said sarcastically.

"The court obviously felt there were extenuating circumstances" she said, "I'm telling you… Kyle is not a bad guy!"

"Call me cynical, but his sort can always play to a jury" he replied, "...and maybe he was just as good at pulling the wool over the Braxton's eyes... Like I said, he seems to have done pretty well out of all this!"

There were details in the file of both businesses that had been signed over to him about a year ago.

"Now" he said, This 'Kyle'? Whoever he is… He's managed to get his hands on a restaurant and a gym… Inherited from his 'brother' …Not bad at all!"

"You think he's some sort of con man?!" said Kat, staring at him incredulously.

Kyle certainly had a chequered past but he was hardly that much of a criminal mastermind. With Kyle, it had mostly been hot-headed, act first, think second, kind of crimes. This whole con man theory just didn't seem to fit.

"It's certainly a possibility." said Wainwright. "A lot of things just don't add up."

"But why would he say that he'd been in that house in Melbourne? How would he even know that?!" asked Kat.

"That's what I can't figure out" said Wainwright, letting out a heavy sigh. "Unless Danny Braxton told him?"

"But what would he have to gain?" she reasoned, thinking that this man's theory was becoming less and less convincing by the second.

He stared at her for a long while before speaking again. When he did, he took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. He suddenly looking quite old and tired.

"I don't know, Chapman" he admitted, "Maybe I'm just getting paranoid… I think I might be letting this case get to me. I've worked these types of cases for so many years… but this one is just getting under my skin. The more this case unfolds... It's just… astonishing the depths to which some people will sink… Human beings have a capacity for cruelty that's just… soul destroying. Every time I think I've gotten to the bottom of it, I discover a new layer, more horrible than the last one… It feels like no-one can be trusted… Dodgy DoCS case workers, paedophile foster parents, bent cops… Just disgusting people every direction you turn…"

"I think you're wrong about Kyle, you know" she said, shaking her head at him.

"The jury's still out on that one!" he chuckled sadly. He wasn't going to give in that easily.

She shook her head at him and picked up the photo of Kyle as a little boy off the desk. His vacant and broken expression from earlier passed through her mind and she couldn't help feeling terribly guilty that they'd just dropped that bombshell on him the way that they had. No wonder he'd fainted! His whole life had just been torn to shreds and tatters before his very eyes.

"I really think that Kyle is telling the truth…" she insisted, "I think he genuinely thought he was Kyle Bennett… and I _believe_ that he was one of those children in that house…"

She held up the photo of Kyle, and stuck it under his nose.

"Look at this photo!" she said, "This is Kyle… You can see it's him… How would a photo of some con man wind up in this casefile?!"

"I don't know" he admitted, "Maybe just a close resemblance?"

She rolled her eyes at him. Anyone could see that the child in the photo was the same person as the man they had just interrogated.

"Look at this little boy…" she said, "Look into his eyes! …And tell me that this child has ever known love!"

He snorted a little and nodded his head. The child did look pitiful.

"Maybe you're right" he sighed, "Maybe I handled this the wrong way."

"I think we both owe him an apology!" she said, looking at the photo in her hand again, "We need to get him some help."

"Maybe so" said Wainwright, "but you might forgive me if I reserve judgement a little longer"

She shook her head at him and stood up to put her cap back on. "I'm going back to the hospital in the morning" she said, "I want to make sure he's okay."


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: So here's a little Christmas Eve update.**

 **Thanks to anyone out there who's reading this and thanks to you lovely folks who've 'followed'. As always, any feedback (good or bad) would be much appreciated, even if it's just to let me know you're reading...**

 **Special thanks to FrankElza for all your support and for always taking the time to read and review! It means so much to me! :-) Thanks also to Braxtonboyzz123 for all your reviews. Really appreciated!**

 **Merry Christmas everyone!**

 **xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**

 **Chapter 15**

 **i.**

Tamara lay beside Kyle in the hospital bed, drawing patterns on his chest lightly with her fingertips, and listening to him breathe in and out slowly. They'd given him a sedative to help him sleep and it seemed to have knocked him out completely. For her own part, she hadn't slept at all, all night. She'd just been watching him sleep, and jumping any time that he made the slightest movement. 'Freaked-out', wasn't even the word for what she was feeling right now. She _was_ grateful that Heath had agreed to go home last night, and that he'd offered to take Noah home with him. He seemed to be pretty good with him, so it was a relief to know that he was in good hands. She'd expressed a couple of bottles of milk for him, but insisted on staying here herself. She couldn't leave Kyle when he was like this!

He was pretty out of it now, but before they'd given him the sedative, it had become clear that there was something very very wrong. It was like he was there, but he wasn't really 'there'. He'd been answering questions with one word answers, but he hadn't really been listening. Not really.

He'd agreed to the DNA test without really understanding what he was agreeing to, and simply signed the form. There'd been an expression on his face in that moment that Tamara had never seen before. A sort of vacancy. A look of utter defeat, as though he'd given up. She'd watched in concern as they'd swabbed his mouth. He'd simply submitted and stared out the window the whole time. The lights had been on but there was very definitely no-one home! Wherever Kyle was, it wasn't in this room.

She didn't know what had happened during that interview but she was going to have it out with Kat later. They couldn't get away with treating him this way! Didn't they know what had happened to him when he was little? Didn't they understand how fragile he was?!

Kyle began to stir, breathing faster now, and moving about in the bed. She stroked his chest and snuggled in a little closer in the hope of soothing him.

"Noooo!" he moaned quietly, making little whimpering noises and tensing his muscles.

She lifted her head to look at him. His eyes were clamped shut and his face was screwed up into a pained grimace. There were tears leaking down his cheeks. It was very obvious that he was having a nightmare.

She raised herself up on one elbow and brought her hand up to wipe his tears away.

"Hey, baby?" she said, gently caressing the side of his face, "Baby, it's okay, it's just a nightmare."

Suddenly his eyes shot open and he seemed to be looking at her in an accusing way. He shrugged her hand away quite violently.

"Baby?!" she asked, wondering at the fact that he'd pulled away from her so abruptly, and was staring at her now from the far side of the bed. It was as though he thought she was a monster. His chest was heaving in and out in a laboured sort of way and his eyes were out on stalks. "Sweetie?" she said, as she made a move towards him.

"No!" he roared suddenly, jumping backwards and falling out the side of the bed. He landed on his back on the floor and immediately curled in a protective sort of foetal position.

She scooted over to look down at him. She couldn't help being shocked at the state he was in.

"No, please?!" he screamed, shielding himself with his hands as though someone was hitting him. He was crying now. "Please, please… I'll do what you want…" he begged, his voice thick with emotion and choked with tears, "Let me try again… I'll be good, I'll be good, I'll be good…" The words were tumbling out in a quick succession and running into each other. He was still dodging imaginary blows.

She scrambled down off the bed on his side and crouched down beside him. She didn't know what to do. He was sobbing as he lay there curled on his side.

"Kyle?" she pleaded, reaching out and tentatively putting her hand on his arm, "Wake up, baby?"

He turned his head slowly to look at her. For a moment, he seemed to be looking right through her, but then he began to blink.

"Baby, it's me" she said, in a soft and soothing voice, "It's just me… No-one's going to hurt you."

The vacant look in his eyes suddenly disappeared and he looked at her then with a pained expression. It was like he wanted to say something but he didn't have the words. When she smiled at him, he put his arms around her, and started to cry again.

"It's okay." she said, pulling his head against her chest and stroking his hair with one hand. "It's okay, Kyle"

"Don't call me that" he said, in a choked sort of way, his whole body suddenly tensing in her arms. "Don't!" he said again in a small broken voice.

She pulled back from him and looked at him in confusion. "Don't call you what?"

" _That_ name…" he said, staring at her with eyes full of pain and fear, "It's not my name… It never was".

She furrowed her brows at him. "I don't understand" she said, "Don't call you… don't call you Kyle? Is that what you're saying?"

"I don't know who I am" he said, in a low whisper, "…but I'm not him… I'm someone else… I'm someone that no-one knows…"

"Baby, what are you talking about?!" she asked. He looked so wild-eyed and strange.

"I don't even know me…" he said, talking to himself more than her. He was shaking his head now and scratching at his arms in a strangely violent way. "I'm just some kid" he choked out, "Some _dirty_ … _disgusting_ little kid that nobody wanted… something that someone threw away like trash… Nothing… nobody… worthless…"

"Kyle, you're not dirty!" she said, putting her hand up to stroke the side of his face. He was scaring her now, the way he was talking, and the way he was looking straight through her.

"I'm not Kyle!" he shouted, pushing her hand away roughly and staggering to his feet. He nearly knocked her over flat in his haste.

"Kyle?!" she gasped, "You're scaring me!"

"I'm not Kyle!" he sobbed loudly, "So, stop calling me that! …Just stop calling me that!"

"What do you mean, you're not Kyle?!" she asked, looking frightened. She couldn't help wondering what was in that sedative that they'd given him.

"He's dead!" he shouted, scratching violently at the skin on his arms, "Okay?! …Kyle Bennett is dead… He's dead!".

"Kyle Bennett?" she asked.

She wondered why he was using his childhood surname, and what on earth he was talking about. Did he mean it metaphorically? Like that part of him had died?

"He's dead!" he shouted at her in a hoarse and broken voice, "…and I'm not him! …Just some dirty little kid…"

She approached him slowly and tried to put her arms around him, but he pushed her away a little too roughly, making a strange howling noise. She gasped as she lost her balance and ended up on the floor. He didn't even notice!

"Dirty, filthy, disgusting…" he whispered under his breath, "Never gonna be clean… never gonna be… Dirty… Dirty…"

She was shocked by what he was saying, but even worse was that he suddenly started hitting himself in the head with his fists. She stared in shock, wincing at the sickening sound of his knuckles smacking against his own skull. Bone on bone. She was frozen stock-still in her position on the floor. A combination of fear and shock preventing her from moving. She just didn't know what to do!

"Dirty...dirty...dirty..." he repeated over and over again. As he paced back and forth in front of her, he hit himself repeatedly. The veins in his neck looked like they might burst from the strain.

"B-baby… I…" she started to stammer. She didn't really know what she was going to say.

Suddenly, without warning, he walked over to the wall beside the door, and smacked his own head off it. Nothing could have prepared her for that noise! Like a coconut cracking!

"I'm nothing!…" he whispered, each time he made contact with the wall, "Nothing! …Nothing!" He hit his head again and again.

"Help!" she screamed, scrambling to her feet and trying to pull him away from the wall. He drew his elbow back and hit her in the chest with it before resuming his assault on himself. "Help!" she roared again, nursing her bruised breast as Nate and one of the nurses ran in. "Help! There's something wrong with Kyle!" she shouted at them.

Nate and the nurse, followed by one of the orderlies, ran to him and took hold of his arms. They managed to drag him away from the wall with some difficulty, and forced him onto the bed. He was roaring and crying and kicking and wriggling in an attempt to get away. His head was bleeding badly because he'd reopened his stitches so the blood was streaming down his face. It was a shocking scene.

"Noooo!" he roared at them, "Please, not again! Not again! Not tonight!"

A nurse appeared with restraints and a tray with a syringe on it. His eyes filled with terror when he saw the restraints.

"No, no, no, no, no, please, please, please…" he sobbed, "Don't tie me down… I'll be good, I won't move… I'll be good! Please don't tie me down again!"

Nate gave Tamara an apologetic look and turned back to Kyle.

"I'm sorry Kyle, but we need to do this…" he said, holding both his shoulders down as he continued to struggle, "We don't have a choice!"

He sobbed and sobbed as they strapped him down.

"I'm sorry!" he cried in the most heart-wrenching way, "I'll let you do what you want… _anything_ you want… just take the ropes off! …Ple-heeese?!"

Nate looked at him in pity, and shared a knowing sort of look with the nurse holding the tray for him. There was no mistaking what their patient was talking about.

"This'll help you feel better" he said, as he injected him with the sedatives, "Just try to breathe for me, mate… Take deep breaths and try to calm down."

Kyle stared up at him with a blood and tear-streaked face.

"Please don't take my tongue" he said. His voice was small and broken, like a frightened child, "I tried really hard to be good, Simon… I did…" He started to slur his words a little as the drugs took effect. "I'm sssssorry I told… Didn't mmmean to tell..." he said, "Mhm… mhm ssssorry…"

His eyes went dull then and he slowly stopped struggling.

Tamara walked over slowly, a little frightened of him now, and looked down at his face as it became peaceful again. She looked up at Nate.

"I don't understand!" she sobbed, from behind the hand covering her mouth, "What just happened?!"

"I don't know…" said Nate, as he signed forms ordering new scans, "…but I intend to find out…" He and a couple of the nurses started to push the bed out towards the hallway with Tamara tagging along close behind. "Get him down to radiology" he said to one of the nurses, as he rushed the bed past Kat in the doorway. "I'll need a word when I get back" he said to her.

She'd just witnessed Kyle's outburst, and any doubt that she might have had regarding Kyle's identity had just been wiped away. This was no conman. Kyle was clearly a deeply traumatized individual who they had managed to push to breaking point. She felt incredibly guilty.

Tamara stopped in front of her, crossing her arms across her chest and pursing her lips together in anger. "What are you doing here?" she asked, glaring daggers at her, "Come to see the damage you've done?!"

"No…" replied Kat, trying not to take her obvious hostility to heart, "But I… I think I need to speak to you."

 **ii.**

The lift doors opened, and Heath ran out wide-eyed and panicked, looking for Tamara. He spotted her nearly immediately, standing with her back to him, and with her hand twisting and pulling at her own hair. He ran up to her and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Tam, what's going on?!" he asked, "Is he okay?!"

She spun around, with tears streaming down her face, and threw her arms around his waist. He looked down at her in shock as she put her head against his chest and sobbed.

"Tam, what's wrong?!" he asked, suddenly frightened to know the answer, "Where's Kyle?!"

He'd received her message half an hour ago, asking him to drop Noah with Evie, and to come to the hospital as soon as he could. He'd been in such a panic, thinking that there must be some emergency, but he'd spent the whole drive over there telling himself to calm down, and to stop over-reacting. Now that he could see how upset Tamara was, his heart had started racing again, and he just wanted to know what had happened.

Tamara pulled away from him, looking up at him with big teary eyes and wiping at her tears with the back of her hand.

"Kat's waiting for us in the family room" she said, reaching for his hand and dragging him towards a door down the hallway.

He stopped outside the room and pulled Tamara back towards him.

"What's this about?" he asked, looking at the door with trepidation. "What's wrong with Kyle?"

She shook her head and her mouth pulled into a strange sort of grimace as she tried not to cry. She'd done enough of that already! She wiped at her eyes again, and sighed.

"I wanted her to explain it to you…" she said, "…because I don't think I can."

She opened the door and led him into the room. There were sofas on one side of the room and a children's play corner on the other, with a brightly coloured wooden educational type toy as its centrepiece.

Kat was sitting on one of the couches waiting for them and looking very nervous. She had a brown folder resting on her knee. She nodded for them both to sit down and smiled at Heath as he took the spot closest to her on the couch.

She took a big breath and puffed it out slowly. Somehow she was even more nervous going over this a second time, and particularly because it meant explaining it to Heath. The fact that Kyle Bennett was actually dead would have even greater significance for Heath than it had had for Tamara, because she was essentially breaking the news to the boy's last surviving relative. Even if Heath had never met the boy, he'd still been a blood relation, and he'd been murdered in the most awful of circumstances. It would be understandable if Heath was upset.

"Heath…" said Kat, giving him a nervous little pat on the knee. "I have some things to tell you that you're going to find shocking. I want you to be prepared for that."

He glanced at Tamara, and she took hold of his hand and started stroking his thumb with her own. She turned away and stared into the distance, with tears rolling down her cheeks. He didn't know what to make of it. He looked back at Kat.

"Can you please just get on with it?" he huffed, "You're both really scaring me now!"

"Okay, Heath" said Kat, "I'm just going to come out and say it… Kyle Bennett, your half-brother, died when he was thirteen years old… He died in that house in Melbourne. The man you know as Kyle isn't Kyle Bennett, or Braxton… He… he's not your brother."

Heath stared at her wide-eyed in shock, mouth hanging open a little, as he tried to process it. Had she just said what he thought she'd said?!

"Do you understand what I'm telling you?" she asked.

"Kyle's not my brother?" he repeated.

"No, Heath" she replied, "I'm sorry, but he's not."

He gave a little snort and shook his head. "This is bullshit" he said, "You've got it wrong."

"I'm sorry, Heath" she said, "It is true… The body we found…"

"I don't want to hear it!" he snapped at her, "Someone's made a mistake… My dad knew who he was… How do you explain that?!"

"We're not sure" she admitted.

He turned to look at Tamara when she squeezed his hand. He'd forgotten that she was still holding it. She was looking at him and shaking her head.

"You don't really believe this crap, do you?!" he asked.

"It… it's t-true" she stammered, "They… they have proof… One of the bodies they found in the house in Melbourne… It was Kyle Bennett… They have medical records that prove it…"

"Proof?" he asked.

"Medical implants" said Kat, handing him the photo of the fixation plate, "Registered to Kyle Bennett… we found it in one of the bodies in Melbourne."

He shook his head as he looked at it. "This is messed up" he muttered.

"So… Kyle isn't _Kyle_ …" said Tamara, "He can't be."

He swallowed hard, and opened his mouth to speak, but for a moment, the words just wouldn't come. He coughed to try to clear his throat and then turned to look at Kat again.

"But…" he stammered, "I don't… I mean… Who…?"

Kat nodded at him, understanding what it was that he was trying to ask. Tamara had had more or less the same reaction.

"At the moment" she said, "…we don't know who he is… and my best guess is that he doesn't know either… It looks like he genuinely thought that he was Kyle, for whatever reason… He doesn't seem to know who he really is… I can't imagine how terrifying that must be."

"How can he not know?!" he snorted.

"I… I think he may have been brainwashed" she said, with a sad little grimace, "He might have been too young to remember… Those people… the Hames'… They may have filled his head with a whole lot of lies…"

"You think they told him he was Kyle?" he asked, with a tone of disbelief, "And he believed it?!"

"I don't know" admitted Kat, "But I do know that he fell apart when we told him he wasn't… It was like he was having a flashback or something… Couldn't breathe…"

Heath stared at the floor, trying to understand this whole mess, and then turned to look at Tamara again. She was still crying and holding onto his hand for dear life. She turned to look at him and wiped her eyes again with her sleeve.

"He freaked out completely, Heath!" she said, looking a little dazed. "He smashed his head against the wall, so many times! I was so scared! …You should see his poor head! There was so much blood... He just kept saying not to call him Kyle!"

"Not to call him Kyle?!" he huffed, "What does he want you to call him then?!"

"He was going crazy" she said, "He… just kept saying all this weird stuff… He frightened me."

"What stuff?" he asked, with obvious concern in his voice, "What did he say?"

She shook her head and pursed her lips as tears began rolling down her cheeks again. It felt like a betrayal to tell him. To repeat the things that Kyle had said in front of her.

"What did he say?!" he repeated, giving her hand a squeeze.

She turned to look at him again, her chin trembling, and her face screwing up as she tried to stop crying.

"He… he kept…" she stammered, "He kept saying that… that he's d-dirty …and… and d-disgusting…" She started to sob again and let go of his hand to wipe the tears off her face. "Oh God, Heath… What did those people do to him?!"

Heath reached for her and put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in against his chest.

"I didn't know what to do, Heath! He wouldn't stop hurting himself!"

"Where is he now?" he asked, looking pale with the shock of it all. "Is he okay?!"

"They've taken him for an MRI…" she said, covering her mouth with her hand, "When he hit his head, Heath! …I can't get that sound out of my head! …What if…?!"

"He'll be okay" he said, cutting her off before she could finish that thought. "He's in good hands here, Tam. He'll be okay!" He wasn't sure that he believed that though.

He looked back at Kat and blew out a big breath, still trying to get his head around things. "So you're saying that my little kid brother… the real Kyle Bennett …he died?"

"Yes" said Kat, nodding at him sadly, "When he was only thirteen."

"And he was murdered by these Hames people?" he asked, his voice shaking with emotion. "Do they know how? …I mean… how… how they did it?"

He couldn't imagine someone murdering a child, and even though he'd never met this little boy, his little brother, he couldn't help feeling like he'd just lost something. He'd never got the chance to meet him and now he never would. Some monster had just taken him from them.

Now he had two murdered brothers.

"We don't know how, no" said Kat, but she was lying.

She didn't think that he needed to know that right here and now, not with everything else that he needed to get his head around.

"He was buried with the other victims in the house…" she said, pulling out the death certificate and tentatively handing it to him, "The coroner thinks he was killed around 2004."

He took it and looked at it with a blank expression, still unable to really take this in.

"And… uh… our 'Kyle'?" he asked, with furrowed brows. "How did he get mixed up in this?"

"We haven't really got an explanation" said Kat shaking her head. "He hasn't been very forthcoming with information… but for what it's worth, I think he _was_ raised in that house, and… abused, and… he was probably very traumatised… Maybe Stockholm syndrome? …I don't know… I really don't think he meant to mislead anyone… From what I saw, it came as a shock to him… I believe that _he_ thought he was Kyle."

"But… I don't understand" he said, "He… he was a match… I mean, Brax was a match for his kidney transplant… if he'd been alive… How can Kyle not be related to us?"

"We checked that" she said, "Nate says all they did was check blood type… They were both type O… He could have matched with anyone."

He looked at the certificate in his hand again and gave an exasperated huff. "I can't get my head around this!" he said, "This is so messed up!"

"I know" said Kat, "I'm sorry I've had to just drop it on you like this."

He shook his head, and breathed out a heavy sigh. "So you think… you think he lived his whole childhood in that house?"

She shrugged and said, "We don't know… but it maybe looks that way."

"Locked in those little cells in that dungeon?!" he asked, shuddering at the thought of it.

How could any child be treated that way?! He thought of Darcy and Harley and his blood ran cold at the thought of anyone hurting either of them like that. How Kyle had lived through something so terrible and come out the other side such a good person was beyond him. He felt a deep sadness for the other Kyle that hadn't made it out.

"It looks like it, yes" said Kat, trying to push the image out of her own mind. Wainwright was right, these things did stay with you.

"Jesus!" he groaned, rubbing his face with his free hand.

"At least until he was thirteen" she added, "We think he went to another foster home after that."

He sat for a moment with his head tilted back and his hand covering his eyes. He needed time to think. He felt confused, and angry and sad all at the same time, and a lot of other emotions he didn't even have words for. Finding out that his brother had been abused had been such a shock, and he'd still been reeling from that revelation. To find out now that he wasn't really his brother, was somehow much more shocking!

He loved Kyle, or whatever his name was, but he couldn't pretend that this didn't change things. He wasn't his brother after all! How was he meant to ignore that?! But he couldn't imagine abandoning him either. He'd been a part of his life for too long, and they'd been through a lot together. Could they still be 'brothers' even if they weren't really brothers? With Casey gone, and Brax on the run, he was really the only 'family' he had left. Was he willing to throw that away, just because of a lack of DNA?

"So… now what?" he said, trying to focus on something practical, "How do we find out who he is?"

"We're working on it" she replied, giving him a little half-smile in an attempt to be reassuring. "We're waiting for the results of the DNA test… Maybe that'll give us some sort of clue."

He looked down at Tamara who was still softly sobbing, and pulled her in closer in a tighter hug. He kissed her lightly on the top of the head. "He'll be okay…" he whispered, "We'll be okay… We'll get through this."


	16. Chapter 16

**Thank you so much to FrankElza for the continued support on this story. I really appreciate all your feedback. Reading your comments means the world to me!** **Without them, I don't think I'd continue posting this story to be honest. So, thank you again. You're a star!**

 **If you're reading this, I would really appreciate it if you could let me know what you think. You don't have to say much. Just one or two words. Yay or nay? Thumbs up or thumbs down? The silence is deafening!**

 **Anyway, here's the new chapter… Hope you enjoy it.**

 **Chapter 16**

 **i.**

Heath slumped down with his back against the gravestone and took a slug from the bottle of whiskey in his hand.

' _Fuck you, Heath!'_ he spluttered as he choked the burning liquid down. He was angry with himself.

In truth, he was feeling guilty about running out of there like that, especially because he'd left Tamara to deal with things on her own, but it had all just become a bit too much for him. He'd sat there with Tamara waiting for Kyle to come back from radiology, but all he'd been able to focus on was the whiteboard above where the bed should be. It said 'Kyle Braxton' it.

' _Kyle Braxton_?' he'd thought to himself, ' _But he isn't Kyle, is he? He's not my brother! My brother died because some sick bastards killed him, and buried him in their back yard. How many people do I have to lose?! First Rocco, then Casey… now little Kyle… Who I never even got to meet. I was probably about 17 when he died and I didn't even know he existed. And then there's this guy… I mean, who the hell is he anyway?! Did he even know dad?! He only turned up after dad died… What if he's known all along that he wasn't our brother?!_ '

Just then, the bed was rolled back in, and they parked it under the whiteboard with Kyle's name on it. The hospital staff motioned for them to wait for a moment, and then reconnected all the wires to link him up to the heart monitor. "Okay, you can see him now" said one of the nurses.

Tamara stood up and made her way to the bed, dragging him behind her as she went.

'Oh god!' she cried, covering her mouth with her hand.

He couldn't help the gasp that escaped his lips either. Kyle's face was horribly bruised, with a big bandage wrapped around his forehead and two black eyes that had swollen shut. He'd done a lot of damage!

Tamara grabbed Heath's hand and squeezed it tightly. "He's gonna need us" she said, gently stroking her husband's bandaged head, "You can stay in Summer Bay for a while, can't you?" When he didn't answer, she turned to look at him with big frightened eyes. "Heath?!" she asked.

Suddenly he was running. He'd torn his hand away from hers, and charged for the door. He'd run, and he'd run, and he hadn't stopped running until he'd got to the Surf Club. It hadn't been too difficult to get into Angelo's and swipe one of bottles of whiskey from the store room.

Somehow, his feet had brought him to Rocco and Casey's graves although he hadn't been at all conscious of the decision. He turned and looked at the grave behind him and gave a sad little laugh.

' _What the hell am I doing here?!'_ he asked, slurring a little as he held the bottle up in a sort of toast, _"I mean… no offence, Case… but you're not the best company, mate."_

" _No offence taken" said Casey, reaching out and taking the bottle from him._

 _Heath's eyes widened in shock as he watched Casey take a slug from the bottle and screw up his face at the burn._

" _Wuh… what? What's going on?!" asked Heath, sitting up a little straighter and glancing around the darkened graveyard to see if this was a prank of some sort. He looked back at Casey, and then rubbed his eyes, as though he might be able to rub him out of existence._

" _So, what's my big brother doing drinking himself silly in a cemetery?" asked Casey, as he sat down beside him and offered him back the bottle, "I mean… not that I'm not happy to see you…"_

" _You're not real" said Heath, still staring at him with eyes out on stalks, "You… you died… You can't be real!"_

" _That's a good point" laughed Casey, "But, it doesn't really matter right now, does it?"_

" _Why are you here?" he asked._

" _Well, you obviously wanted to talk to me" he answered, "So… what's going on, Heath? …I mean, obviously, I'm you… I'm inside your head… so, I already know. I just want you to say it out loud."_

" _Say what out loud?" he asked._

" _C'mon, Heath" he smirked, "You know exactly what I'm talking about… There's a reason you're slugging down whiskey tonight." He motioned for the bottle again and took a glug when Heath handed it over. "So?" he said, "Spill!"_

" _I'm confused" admitted Heath, "I mean, I just found out that Kyle isn't who we thought he was… The real Kyle died when he was just a little kid… but I guess you probably already know that." He began to tear up a little. "Our little brother was raped by those sadistic bastards and then they murdered him!"_

 _Casey gave him a sad little nod. "I know" he said._

" _And we didn't even get to meet him" he continued._

" _I know" Casey said again._

" _And now I don't know what to do about Kyle" he said, taking the bottle of whiskey back and drinking back a big mouthful, "I want to help him… but then… why should I? He's not even our brother… I don't know what I'm supposed to do…"_

" _Do you care about him?" asked Casey._

" _Course I do" he sighed, "But… I don't know who he is… Not really."_

" _That's a cop out!" exclaimed Casey, "You know who he is… He might not have our name, and he might not be Danny's son… but you know who he is. You know him! He's the same person he was a few days ago, and deep down, you know that too. Don't walk out on him now, just because it's too hard."_

 _Heath smiled a little and nodded at him. He was right. He did know that._

" _He needs you" said Casey, "You're all he has… and he's all you've got too."_

Suddenly, his phone rang and he jumped nearly a mile high, spilling what remained of whiskey all over the grass. He'd been asleep.

"He-hello" he answered, gazing around him and feeling a little sad that Casey wasn't there anymore.

"Kyle's awake!" cried Tamara, on the other end of the line, "I need you here, Heath… He's being really weird!"

 **ii.**

 **1 week later…**

"I DON'T WANT THAT NAME ON MY CHARTS!" roared Kyle, as he ripped up his patient notes and threw them, all scrunched up in little balls, across the room at Nate.

Nate gave him the kind of look that you'd give a small child that was being naughty and folded his arms across his chest. He could see that his patient wasn't in any mood to be reasoned with, so there was no point in even trying.

"And I don't want it above my bed either!" whined Kyle, pointing at the whiteboard where the patient's name normally went. "That's not me!"

The board had been wiped clean leaving his hands covered in black ink. He threw his patient wristband at Nate as well, and shouted, "I'm not him. I don't want anyone calling me that!" He started ripping up the T-shirt that he'd been wearing when he was brought in, pulling at it frantically, and tearing it into little strips with his teeth. He was obviously trying to destroy any trace of 'Kyle' and that included his clothing.

Nate tilted his head at him, with his arms still folded, and spoke in as soothing a voice as possible.

"Okay… well then..." he said, "What would you like to be called? Pick a name and we'll call you that… We need to have a name for your notes, so we can keep track of your tests."

Kyle seemed to have regressed and was behaving in a way that was very childlike. It wasn't unusual in trauma cases like this, and it wasn't really a laughing matter, but it was hard not to find it a little amusing. Nate knew from experience that it was better to play along, and let the patient throw their tantrums, if that's what they needed. People dealt with things in different ways. This wasn't much different from a bereavement really. He was effectively mourning his own identity and going through the various stages of grief.

"What would you like us to call you?" he asked kindly.

Kyle stopped what he was doing and looked up at Nate in shock. It was as though the concept was completely new and unprecedented.

"Ummmm..." he replied, with a look of pure confusion, "I… I don't know."

Nate looked at him with pity, wondering what it would be like to lose all sense of your own identity. To have to build a new one from scratch would be nothing short of terrifying. He couldn't imagine being in the other man's shoes.

"Why don't you and Tamara have a chat about it" he suggested, as though he was talking to a toddler, "…and maybe you can come up with a new name together?"

Kyle continued to stare for a moment or two but then he just nodded and dropped his hands to his sides. All the fight had gone out of him. "Okay" he mumbled, "I… I can do that."

Suddenly meek like a lamb, he curled up in the armchair next to his bed, and started staring out the window.

Nate picked up the scraps of T-shirt and balls of paper, and shook his head in wonderment at how different this Kyle was from the one that he'd always known. It was like the removal of the name 'Braxton' had wiped away any tiny bit of tough guy bravado the man had ever had. He seemed like a small child now, full of fear and vulnerability, and as far removed from a River Boy as it was possible to get.

The Englishman gave a tired little sigh and glanced out to the hallway. Tamara would be here soon, blustering in with home-made food for Kyle, and pestering him and the rest of the medical team for answers. He knew that she was worried about Kyle. He could understand that. It was just that she'd managed to convince herself that this strange behaviour was the result of a head injury and that they were wilfully ignoring it for some reason, or neglecting him in some way. Kyle smacking his head off that wall had obviously really frightened her, and she was sure that he had to have a brain bleed or something. No matter how many times they'd showed her the scans, they just couldn't get through to her.

Heath was a different story. He'd been coming in every day and sitting with Kyle for hours on end, playing board games and cards, and talking to him like you would a three-year-old. Bianca had come up from the city with the kids, to help Tamara out with baby Noah, so she'd been in every so often to see Kyle too. Nate was surprised at how much of a family man Heath had become since he'd been away, and how much he was stepping up for Kyle now. He'd never really rated the man before, but he couldn't help being impressed with the way that he was dealing with all of this. Being there for Kyle, now that he knew that they weren't really related, was something he wouldn't have expected of a Braxton, especially with their whole 'Blood and Sand' thing. It was nice to see him doing the right thing for once.

The psychiatrist had asked that Kyle be kept in for at least the next few days. She was of the opinion that he was suffering a brief psychotic episode and that he'd snap out of it in a few days. Child-like behaviour was a known response to trauma and he was displaying a number of other indicators of post-traumatic stress. He would come round, she'd said, but it would just take a little time. 'Delayed traumatic shock' she'd called it. His mind had basically taken a leave of absence.

"Tamara will be in soon" said Nate, as he patted Kyle on the shoulder and gave him a little smile. "I'll see you later, okay?"

Kyle looked up at him with a slightly vacant expression. "Okay" he said nodding slowly, before looking out the window again.

 **iii.**

"Snap!" said Heath, smacking his hand down on top of the stack of cards with a big grin on his face, "Mate! You need to be a bit faster than that!"

They'd been playing snap for the last half hour and Heath had been letting him win, just like he would with Harley. Kyle's reactions were just very slow, as though everything was happening in slow motion. He thought he'd try winning for once, just to shake things up, and see how Kyle reacted. As it turned out, he got no reaction at all. Kyle just stared down at the hand in front of him for what felt like an incredibly long time.

Heath leaned forward and tentatively put his hand on Kyle's shoulder. "Mate, you still here?" he asked him, lowering his head to try to make eye contact. There was an extremely long silence before Kyle finally spoke.

"What are you still doing here?" he asked, his voice so low and quiet that Heath couldn't be sure if he'd heard him correctly.

"What?" said Heath, looking at him with concern. "Why wouldn't I be here?"

Kyle looked up at him properly for the first time in days, but then quickly looked away again. "Why are you still here?" he asked again.

"Mate… I don't understand?" said Heath.

"It's a simple question" he replied, keeping his eyes fixed on the playing cards, "I want to know why you're still coming here, day after day, and wasting your time on me… when we both know now that I'm not your brother? …I'm no-one's brother… I'm not anything to anyone anymore."

"Hey?!" said Heath, reaching out to lift Kyle's chin. He wanted to see his eyes.

"Get off me!" snapped Kyle, as he pulled away from him in a startled way, "Don't touch me!"

"Sorry" said Heath, holding his hands up in front of him. He could see from his reaction that he was actually frightened. "I didn't mean… I'm not…"

"Forget it" said Kyle, giving an exasperated huff as he began picking up the cards to tidy them away. He kept his eyes cast downwards as he carefully placed each card the right way round in his hand. "I mean it, Heath…" he asked, through gritted teeth, "What are you still doing here?! Don't you have somewhere better to be?!"

"No, mate" sighed Heath, "I don't have anywhere better to be… You matter to me… and I owe it to you…"

Kyle angrily shook his head at that. "You don't owe me anything!" he snapped. He slid the cards back into the little box and threw the box across the table at Heath. "We're not family anymore, so there's no reason for you to be here."

"Hey?!" said Heath, reaching out and gripping Kyle's shoulder tightly in his hand, "This doesn't have to change anything!"

Kyle fought the hold that he had on him for a moment, and tried to pull his shoulder away, but then he just slumped in a defeated sort of way. Staring down at the bedsheets like that, with his lips pursed together in anger, he looked like a scolded child.

"Look at me?!" said Heath.

Kyle shook his head.

"Look at me!" insisted Heath, giving his shoulder another squeeze, "Mate, look at me?!"

Slowly, Kyle raised his gaze and almost immediately his eyes began to well up.

"I know you're hurting right now…" said Heath, "…and you're angry… and you have every right to be! But pushing the people away that really care about you is not going to help!" He could see Kyle looking at him now, staring at him with a deep sadness in his eyes. It broke his heart. "You're still my little brother…" he said, "This… this stuff… It doesn't have to change anything…. Not if you don't want it to."

Kyle gazed at him for what felt like forever, before bringing his trembling hand up to cover his face. "It… It changes everything" he stammered out, before a loud sob escaped his throat, "Heath… It ch-changes … _everything_! …How can it not?!"

"It doesn't have to!" said Heath, shaking his head at him as he slipped up onto the bed beside him and put his arm around him.

"How can it not?!" repeated Kyle, sweeping his arm across the table in front of him and sending everything flying off it onto the floor. "I don't know who I am, or where I come from… or anything about… _anything_ …" He gave a shaky sigh, trying desperately to catch his breath. "I'm no-one now" he cried.

"That's not true" said Heath, pulling him a little closer to him. He could feel Kyle's whole body shaking in his arms. "You're Tamara's husband. You're Noah's dad… and you're still my little brother, no matter what the DNA says…"

"You're not gonna want me anymore" he sobbed miserably, "Not when you know the truth about me…"

"What truth?" asked Heath.

"How… how… how _dirty_ I am!" he stammered.

"Mate, you're not dirty!" gasped Heath, "Stop saying that!"

"I am dirty!" he growled, and punched himself hard in the thigh. " _Disgusting!_ " he growled under his breath, as he did it again.

"Hey, stop that!" scolded Heath, as he grabbed Kyle's wrist and held it still.

"You… you don't understand!" he sobbed, struggling to pull his hand free, "No-one's ever gonna want me now…. No-one! …You shouldn't either!"

"You were just a little kid!" whispered Heath, as he rocked him, both arms pulled around him tightly now, "You were only a kid… Just like Harley… None of what happened to you is your fault… You need to stop thinking that." He held him close as big breathy shudders wracked his body. "You're all the family I have left!" he said, speaking close to his ear, "And in case you haven't figured it out by now, …I love ya, you idiot!"

"You love Kyle…" he said, shaking his head, "Not me"

"Oh really?" he said, ruffling his hair a little, "So, you haven't been living with us for like the last four years? …That was someone else, was it?! …It's not you who's been here for all of us… through everything? …That was some other guy, huh?!"

Kyle looked up at him, and wiped at his red and puffy eyes. "But I'm not a Braxton, Heath! …I don't know who I am… but I'm not one of you." He looked down at his forearm with the ' _All Or Nothing_ ' tattoo on it, and started to scratch at it with his other hand.

"Hey, hey, c'mon, stop that!" coaxed Heath, as he pulled his hand away again, "You're still a Braxton in my eyes… If you want to be…"

Kyle stared at him for a moment, looking vacant and lost, and wiped again at the tears rolling down his cheeks. He hated feeling this weak.

"That's just it." he said, "I don't _know_ what I want… I'm not Kyle… but I don't know who to be… How do you just pick a new name for yourself… like naming a dog?!"

"I don't know, mate… I don't know…" admitted Heath, "But we'll be here for you… Me and Tam… we'll help you."

Heath didn't really know what to say to him. He was relieved that he was talking again, and actually letting him in to how he was feeling, but this was going to be a new hurdle to clear. Kyle's self-confidence lay there in tatters, and it was going to be very difficult for him to build himself back up again.

How do you start again at the age of twenty-seven?!

Kyle pulled away from Heath's arms and began wiping at his face with both hands in an exasperated way. After a moment, he let out a shuddering sigh, and laughed in a sad kind of way.

"I built myself a life that was completely based on lies…" he sighed, "I ruined my relationship with my foster parents because I wanted to be a Braxton… David and Jenny didn't want me hanging around _Danny Braxton_ …" He spat the man's name in disgust. "They knew that he'd get me in trouble…" he continued, before laughing angrily at himself, "And he did… He got me into a whole world of trouble… David was right about that! …But I just wanted to _impress_ him so badly!"

Heath looked at him in surprise. Kyle had never talked about his time in foster care, for reasons that were now obvious. He didn't know anything about any of his foster parents.

"David and Jenny?" he asked.

Kyle glanced at him and gave him a sad smile.

"They were the good ones…" he said, " _After_ that house…"

He pulled his knees up towards his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

"They brought me back" he said, nodding and rocking a little. "From the darkness... I didn't talk for months when I first lived with them… I mean, months and months… They were so patient, and kind… and they loved me… They… they… they were kind people… They took in a mute and seriously mixed up little kid… and they made him feel… like he _might_ just matter a tiny little bit… Like he might not be completely worthless."

"They sound like good people" smiled Heath.

Kyle grimaced a little, a look of guilt flashing across his face. "They were the best people" he smiled sadly, "And I threw it all away because I wanted Danny Braxton to think I was tough… and _worthy_ of being his son…"

Heath nodded and looked at the floor. He didn't know what to say that would help. This was the most that Kyle had talked about things since he'd been home and he didn't want to ask or say something wrong and have him clam up again.

"Do you know where they are?" he asked, "David and Jenny?"

Kyle nodded, and said, "If they haven't moved… yeah."

"Why don't we go see them?" asked Heath. "They sound like they'd be good people to have around right now… Maybe they'd like to see you?"

Kyle shook his head and looked down at his bedsheets. "I don't think so…"

"Knock knock!" said Tamara, standing in the doorway, with a huge smile on her face. She'd been hiding outside and listening to the conversation, but she couldn't hide the relief on her face to know that Kyle was talking again.

He looked up at her and did his best to give her a warm smile. "I'm sorry" he said, wiping at his tears and sitting up a little straighter, "I know I'm a mess! …It's not fair on you or the baby."

"Oh, sweetie! It's okay" she said, walking over to him and giving him a kiss on the cheek. She knew not to call him Kyle anymore but they still hadn't chosen a name. For now, his notes said _'John Doe_ '.

"Looks like my cue to leave" said Heath, smiling happily and gathering his things. "I'll see you tomorrow, mate!" he said, razzling Kyle's hair and giving Tamara a little smile, "And don't worry, we'll look after the little man till you get home."

 **iii**.

"And you're absolutely sure about that?!" asked Kat, sounding a little incredulous. "Can you email me the documents so I can show them?!" she said, scribbling on her pad. She could feel her heart racing. This was the most excited that she'd been for a while. "Okay, I'll wait for final confirmation tomorrow then!" she said, smiling from ear to ear. "Thank you, sir!" she said, as she put the phone down and sat back in her chair with a relieved sigh.

"You look happy?!" said Emerson, as he walked in through the door to start his shift. He hadn't seen her smile like this in all the time he'd been working with her and it was making him more than a little nervous. "Why the face?" he asked, giving her a look of mock suspicion.

"I just got some good news… If it's true…" She got up and picked up her things. "I'm waiting for confirmation so I'll fill you in in the morning!"

He sat down on his chair and threw his feet up on his desk.

"Okaaay…" he said, "I'll be all ears then."

He watched her leave with a ridiculous grin on her face, and hoped that the big news wasn't that she was pregnant. It wasn't that she was that great a cop, but he did enjoy working with her for the most part, and more than anything he really didn't want the hassle of having to deal with someone new.

Kat stood outside the station, putting her hands on her hips, and took in a deep breath of fresh air. That phone call had been the first bit of good news that she'd had in weeks. It wasn't earth shattering by any means, but it was enough to cut through the utter misery that the Hames' investigation had brought with it. She wanted to celebrate in some small way. She really wanted to go and have a drink at the bar and blow off a bit of steam, but she worried that she wouldn't be able to keep her mouth shut, so she decided that she'd just go home and have a drink there. A glass of wine and a chick flick sounded pretty good to her right now!

Tomorrow was going to be a better day…


	17. Chapter 17

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks once again to FrankElza for the lovely review. It really means the world to me :-) I'm so glad you're enjoying this story.**

 **xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox**

 **Chapter 17**

 **i.**

Kat rolled over in the bed feeling like death warmed up, and promised herself that if she managed to survive until lunchtime she would never drink again. Why did she always have to overdo it?! Why could she not be one of those sensible people who only has a few glasses and then knows when to stop?!

She groaned heavily, and threw an arm and a leg out from under the covers, feeling hot and sweaty. It was far too warm today!

Startled by a soft grunt, she suddenly became aware of the warm and breathing entity in the bed beside her. It was snoring and giving off an enormous amount of body heat. No wonder she felt so warm! She opened her eyes and stared in shock at the head of blonde hair lying on the pillow beside her. He had his back to her and still had his hair in that ridiculous man bun of his.

 _'Oh God, Ash!'_ she groaned to herself, fully aware that this was going to cause war in the house when Phoebe inevitably found out.

She peeked under the covers and groaned when she realised that neither of them were wearing any clothes. Any doubts that she might have had were instantly wiped away. They had definitely slept together.

Memories of last night were beginning to come back, crashing over her like a wave, and she cringed just thinking about it. It had all been so clumsy, and fumbled, and drunken, and he hadn't exactly rocked her world…

She'd always wanted Ash, and she couldn't really deny that, but this just wasn't the way that she would have wanted it to happen! Phoebe was going to kill them both! Besides that, she was going to be really hurt, and the fact that they had both been so drunk wasn't really that much of an excuse.

She lay back in the bed, and gave a heavy sigh as she covered her face. She couldn't help feeling an intense pang of guilt. How she was going to sneak him out without Phoebe knowing?!

Just then, Ash gave a sort of groan and rolled over to face her. He opened his eyes and a look of shock and horror passed over his face. He shot into a sitting position and pulled the covers up around himself, obviously feeling exposed and a bit self-conscious.

"Kat!" he exclaimed in a hushed whisper. He was trying to keep his voice low so Phoebe wouldn't hear. "What? ...did we...?!" he asked, already pretty sure of the answer.

"Yep" said Kat, shrugging at him and looking decidedly embarrassed.

He covered his face with both hands and groaned, "Oh God!"

"Yep" said Kat, nodding her head slowly in agreement. This was going to be such a mess.

"Pheebs is going to kill me!" he said, shaking his head at himself. He turned to Kat and said, "So we... _definitely_ …?"

"Yep" she said again, rolling her eyes at him.

"Oh God!" he groaned again.

"Glad it was so memorable!" she said sarcastically.

He gave her an embarrassed smile and said, "Sorry… I think I was pretty out of it… I mean… I'm surprised I even…"

"Well, you did…" she said, pulling the covers up around herself.

"Great" he sighed.

"Just… not for very long." she added, biting her lip and snorting a little. That was an understatement.

Ash's face flushed bright red with shame, and he turned away, frantically scanning the room to see where he'd left his clothes. He tried to reach his shorts that were lying on the floor but they were just slightly too far away.

"Uh…I think I might…" said Ash, giving up and getting up out of the bed, "I… uh…"

She watched as he awkwardly stumbled around the room to pick up his scattered clothes, finding it hard not to be amused at his obvious embarrassment. He hadn't been so shy last night when he'd been drunkenly mauling her! He pulled on his clothes and picked up his flipflops, and then turned to look at her very sheepishly.

"Kat… Can we… I mean, can you…?" he stammered.

"I won't tell her" said Kat, giving him a little wink and pointing towards the window for him to climb out. "This isn't going to happen again, Ash… So, she doesn't need to know."

 **ii.**

Ash sat at the breakfast table with his head down, lethargically stirring at a bowl of Coco Pops. He was very hungover but the sick feeling in his stomach was more to do with his guilty conscience. It was just a ball of anxiety. In truth, he didn't know what to do. He was already on thin ice with Phoebe and he knew that if she ever found out about him and Kat then it would be over. No doubt about it. No further questions asked. But could he really trust Kat to keep her mouth shut?!

He was dreading the moment that he had to look Phoebe in the eye for the first time. She'd just had her shower and he could hear her now, back in their room, and getting ready for work. That meant that she would be walking through that kitchen door at any moment. He was going to have to face her, and hope that his stupid face didn't give him away, like it always did. He was going to have to put on his best 'poker face' and hope for the best.

He heard the bedroom door open and Phoebe's soft footsteps approaching along the hallway. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face her and gave her the biggest smile that he could manage.

"Hey, babe!" he said, sounding a little over eager. He'd been sleeping on the couch for more than a week so it wasn't like she'd be that thrilled to see him. "Morning" he said, trying to make his voice sound a bit more normal.

She snorted at him in derision and walked straight over to the fridge, taking the orange juice out of the door, and pouring herself a large glass. She got a bowl and sat down at the table opposite him and started to pour herself a bowl of cereal.

"You okay?" he asked, looking decidedly nervous.

He reached his hand across the table to try to touch her arm, but she pulled away from him, giving him a dirty look and narrowing her eyes at him.

"Where did you sleep last night?" she asked. "I came out here to get a glass of water and you weren't on the couch."

He felt like she'd just kicked him in the stomach and it took everything he had not to gasp out loud.

"I uh… stayed at Andy's" he lied, recovering himself quickly. "We just had a few beers, that's all" he said, giving her a little smile, and then quickly turning his attention back to his uneaten bowl of soggy cereal so that he didn't have to maintain eye contact. This wasn't going to be easy.

"Pfff" exclaimed Phoebe, shaking her head at him in what he took to be disapproval. She turned to look when Kat walked in and said, "Hey Kat! Off to work?"

Kat spun around, looking a little startled, and glanced at Ash in a worried sort of way. Phoebe seemed to be looking at her a little strangely but she assumed that since there'd been no screaming or death threats that he mustn't have told her. In any case, she had more important things to be worried about right now.

"Um… yeah… and I'm running late…" she said, turning away again as she started to walk all around the coffee table in the living-room looking perplexed. They watched as she dropped to her knees and swiped her hand about under the couch as though she'd lost something. Looking back over her shoulder at Phoebe and Ash, her face took on a look of panic.

"Have either of you seen my laptop?!" she asked, "I left it here last night!"

 **iii.**

"I need to show you this!" exclaimed Kyle, looking up at Tamara as she walked in, and beckoning for her to come over.

He was sitting in the hospital bed, with the pages of a newspaper spread out on the wheeled table in front of him, and he had a sort of wild-eyed and excited expression on his face. It was the first time that she'd seen him really smiling since Noah had been born, but there was something about this smile that was a little unnerving. He just looked a little manic.

"I think I've found my mum!" he said, beaming at her.

Tamara frowned a little and sat down on the side of the bed beside him. She looked at the tabloid newspaper in front of Kyle and saw the photo of a sad looking brown-haired woman on the front page. It was under a headline that read _"House of Horrors Mum of SEVEN!"_

The news had just broken, and all the major newspapers and tabloids were carrying stories about Anna Lewis. Some of them had treated the story with a little more sensitivity, but the tabloids had been typically sensationalist, and had revelled in the gruesome details of the unassisted births of her babies. The heart-breaking fact that five, or possibly six, of her children had not survived, some of them murdered, had merely been treated as fodder to sell newspapers.

Tamara looked at Kyle with concern as he stared down at the page with a huge grin on his face.

"Baby… I …I don't know…" she stammered, "I mean… We need to ask Kat…"

She was worried that he was wrong, and that he wouldn't be strong enough to cope with the disappointment when he eventually realised that. She glanced at him and then back at the woman in the picture. She had to admit it, they did look alike. They had the same colour of hair and very similar skin tone. There was something about the shape of her eyes too. She could see why Kyle was so convinced.

"It's her… I know it is!" said Kyle, "I recognise her from the house… I mean, I think I do? …I …I think she was nice to me when I was really little… I think she's the one who… who came that time… and looked after me?" He held the picture up beside his own face and mimicked her facial expression. "Tell me she doesn't look like me?!" he exclaimed, "Tell me we don't look like mother and son?!"

"Baby, I know…" she began to say, wondering what he was talking about. "But..."

"It's her!" he insisted, as he gently placed the article down on the table again and ran his fingers over her face in an affectionate way, "I've got a mum, Tam! ...I've actually got a mum!"

Tamara lifted the page off the table and began to read the story. Her heart started to thump as soon as she got to the second paragraph, realising that there was a serious problem with Kyle's theory. She wondered how she was going to break it to him. He just looked so excited. It seemed terribly cruel to take this away from him and leave him with nothing again. On the other hand, she knew that filling his head with more lies would not be the way to go. They needed to find his real family… Sadly, this wasn't it.

The article said that the woman was 36 years old. It would mean that she'd only been a child when she'd had Kyle, and that just didn't seem possible.

Tamara reached for Kyle's hand and tilted her head at him with concern.

"Baby… did you read the whole article?" she asked.

"Yeah… course, I did!" he said, sounding a little defensive and taking the page back from her. "She's my mum, Tam! I know it… in _here_!" he said, tapping his chest to indicate his heart. "She found a way to look after me" he said, "She found a way to let me know that she cared, even when they wouldn't let her…"

His mind was already flashing back to a time in that house. Maybe the only time that he'd felt safe…

 _He coughed and coughed, and coughed some more. He couldn't stop coughing. That was why he was back in his cell so soon. Why he hadn't had to be with that man tonight._

 _'Little fuck threw up on me!' the man had snarled at Simon, as he threw him back towards him, 'I mean, Christ?! The kid's burning up! Could have AIDS for all I know! ...At least bring me one that's clean!'_

 _He'd been dragged downstairs after that. Kicked and punched and snarled at, and thrown back into his filthy little cell that hadn't been cleaned yet. There was still three days' worth of urine and excrement in his bucket, and the smell definitely wasn't helping the horrible sick feeling that was growing in his stomach. He was pretty sure that there'd be vomit in there too before the night was out._

 _He curled up in a little ball, hugging his arms around his stomach, and did his best to drown out the noises coming from upstairs. He was all alone down here… in the dark._

 _He was cold. So very cold… But he was hot too, and sweating. How was that possible?! His teeth were chattering violently and he was shivering like he'd never shivered before. The cold concrete floor wasn't helping any. Big shudders passed through his body, as though every muscle was systematically tensing and rippling under his skin. He didn't know what was wrong with him. That scared him more than anything._

 _He began to cough again, but this time he couldn't stop. He was spluttering and gasping for air, and making an awful choking sound. It seemed to go on forever, and he began to panic because he couldn't take in a full breath. He was on all fours, retching and coughing, and crying his eyes out. His head was spinning…_

 _Then there was nothing. He must have passed out._

 _The next thing he knew, the door opened and a young girl with red puffy eyes and a big pregnant belly was lifting him up. He was terrified but he couldn't seem to move... He couldn't get away! She put her arm around his back and another under his knees and lifted him bridal style. His head hung backwards and each time he opened his eyes, he caught glimpses of the ceiling as they began to go up the stairs. It was like he was floating!_

 _He tried to look up at her but his eyes hurt. All he could see was her silhouette. He blinked and blinked but he couldn't keep his eyes open. The lights were suddenly very bright, and he could see the living-room ceiling._

 _They were upstairs again, and it was bright! That only ever meant one thing!_

" _No!" he began to whimper, "N-no… pl-please, …I …c-can't!" He'd thought he was getting a reprieve tonight, so the thought of having to perform now had his heart hammering violently in his chest._

" _Shhh!" she warned, looking nervously behind her and then raising her eyes to the ceiling. She was obviously listening to the goings-on above and trying to go unnoticed. "Shhh!" she whispered, clamping her hand over his mouth as he continued coughing up a lung._

 _He stared at her, wide-eyed in fear, but did his best to suppress his cough. When she finally took her hand away, he turned his head and was surprised to see that they were in a long hallway that he'd never seen before._

" _Wh-where are we g-going?" he whispered, teeth still chattering badly._

" _To my room" she answered, slipping in through the door to a small bedroom. When they got inside, she walked quickly to the bed and laid him down gently on top of the covers. He cringed when he realised where he was. Beds were never good news and this one had shackles on the headboard. She walked back across the room and closed the door._

" _Hey sweetheart" she said, as she knelt down in front of him and gently smoothed his hair back from his face. He could see now that she'd been crying._ _"I'm not gonna hurt ya" she whispered, "Okay, baby? ...Jess said I could have you for tonight."_

 _He tensed at that. 'Have me?!' he thought to himself, as his whole body started shuddering again. He wasn't sure if it was from the fever now, or out of fear. Maybe it was both._

" _I lost my baby" she explained, looking down sadly at what remained of her baby bump, "So… You're my baby… For tonight, you're my baby, okay?!" ...Jess said I could have you... so I'm gonna have you." She was speaking very fast, and tears were threatening to come at any moment. "I'm gonna take care of you, and hold you… and make you better… Okay?! And you're gonna be my baby… You're gonna be my sweet little baby boy… Okay, baby?"_

 _He didn't get a chance to answer before she'd lifted him again. He was still only a little boy, after all, maybe not much more than six years old. He didn't weigh a lot. She lifted the cover back and lay him down on the bed, before crawling in beside him and reaching her arms around him. Before he knew it, he was nestled in her arms with his head against her chest. Her chin was on top of his head and she was crying softly. His body was shaking from sickness, hers from tears._

 _Part of him wanted to fight. Part of him wanted to get up and run away. His heart was thumping fast as his 'fight or flight' instincts took hold. Why was she doing this?! What did she want from him?! How long would it be before she started doing horrible things that hurt?! Men often called him 'baby' and that never ended well. He was scared!_

 _But a bigger part of him was just so goddamn tired! He didn't have the energy to protest anything. Every inch of his body hurt so much, every muscle, every bone... he felt like he was made of broken glass. And right now, this was the warmest he'd been in as long as he could remember. It was the most comfortable he'd ever been too. He was still shaking, and sweating, but it was definitely getting better._

 _He began to relax into the girl's arms and closed his eyes. He couldn't keep them open anymore even if he'd wanted to. He was beyond exhausted and sleep was calling to him… His eyes flickered open again for a moment when the girl started to sing something softly, but she used her hand to gently close his eyelids again and he felt her press a soft kiss to his forehead. He sighed and allowed her to pull him in even closer._

' _But Baby, it's cold outside' she sang softly, almost under her breath, 'I really can't stay. But Baby, it's cold outside. I have to go away. But Baby, it's cold outside…'_

 _Did he know that song, he wondered? Had someone sung it to him before? How was that even possible?_

 _There was something weirdly familiar about all of this…_

 _One night…_ _That's all he'd got._

 _He'd slept in her bed for one night, and then he'd been dragged back to his cell. Just one night._

 _After that, he'd never seen her again, but for one blessed night of warmth and comfort, he'd been her baby. He'd been someone's 'baby', loved and cared for, and cherished. He'd slept with a pair of warm arms wrapped around his little body, holding him tight as he shivered, and keeping him safe from the horrors of that house. She'd given him one precious night of peace, and he'd never forgotten it…_

"She's my mum" he repeated, "I... thought she was a hallucination... or a dream or something... but... but shes real... and I think she's my mum."

"I don't… I don't think she is" said Tamara, "Baby, I really wish that she was… but it says that she's 36," She pointed at the second paragraph in the article, and tilted her head at him in sympathy. "She can't be your mum…" she reasoned with him, "She's too young, sweetie… I'm really sorry."

He looked at her with a wounded expression, a little like a kicked puppy. "But…" he pouted, "Look at how much we look alike…"

She squeezed his hand again and shook her head at him sadly.

"Babe, you're 27..." she said, "She's far too young to be your mum… she would have been like 9 when she had you…"

He shook his head at her, refusing to accept it.

"There's been some mistake…" he said, smiling down at the photo of the woman again, "The newspaper must have got it wrong!"

"Sweetheart?" she said, but he cut her off.

"This is my mum" he said decisively, "I can feel it… and… that means I have a little baby brother!"

The article said that one of Anna's sons was still alive and that he'd been found in the house when the police had carried out the raid. His name was Billy and he was only three years old. It also stated that the whereabouts of another son, who would be around 22 years old, was currently unknown. Police were still hoping that he would come forward.

Kyle had become convinced that he must be the man that they were looking for. They'd just got their dates wrong, that was all! It was all so clear to him now. He had been born in that house and this woman Anna was his mother. That's why she'd been so kind to him! Why she'd called him her baby, and why he couldn't remember a time before that house!

For him, there hadn't been _anything_ before it. That basement was all that he'd ever known.

He was so excited at the prospect of having a mum, and a new little brother to boot, and he just couldn't wait to meet them!

Tamara looked at him with pity in her eyes and wondered if maybe she should just play along for the time being. He didn't seem to want to listen to reason right now and she didn't really want to upset him.

"Okay, we can ask Kat about it later then" said Tamara cuddling in close to him with her head on his shoulder.

She took out her phone and texted Heath that he needed to come in this afternoon to hear whatever Kat had to say to them. She didn't want to have to deal with one of Kyle's meltdowns on her own ever again.

 **iii.**

"Yes, sir… I'm sorry" said Kat, standing in front of Emerson and looking incredibly shamefaced. "I just don't know how it happened."

"No… I don't really understand that either" said Emerson, giving her a very disapproving look. "…but from the looks of you, I can see that there was a bit of drink involved?"

"Yes, sir" she mumbled, as she hung her head a little. "I left it on the coffee table when I went to bed and when I woke up this morning it was gone… I can't see any signs of forced entry so… unless someone left the door unlocked…?"

"You should know better than to leave a work laptop out in plain view in your living-room!" he said, crossing his arms across his chest and looking at her in a disappointed sort of way, "I would have expected better from you, Chapman."

"I know, sir" she answered, "I'm disappointed in myself, sir."

"Well, I suppose these things do happen" he said, shaking his head at her again. "You'll have to fill in a loss of assets report, and a report of theft, and I'm going to have to let Internal Affairs know that there might be a breach of security. They'll decide if there's to be any disciplinary action."

"Yes sir… thank you, sir… I'll make those reports right away" she said, heading over to her desk to fill in the paperwork.

She had no idea how this could have happened and she'd never been more embarrassed in her life. She just hoped that whoever stole her laptop wouldn't be able to get in and look at the confidential files on there. Some of that stuff was of a very sensitive nature and could be very damaging if it got into the wrong hands. What a mess?! She really had to stop drinking like this!

"By the way, Chapman?" said Emerson, "I see that someone has leaked details of the Hames case to the press… That woman's been named now…"

"I know" she sighed, "Wainwright won't be too happy about that… He did say that they had some dodgy cops involved in all of this."

"Mmmm" murmured Emerson, turning his attention back to his own paperwork.

He looked up again a moment later, watching Kat scroll through her emails on the spare station laptop. She was smiling again, and looked pretty pleased with herself, and he watched as she got up to print something out on the printer. He was curious now. He tilted his head at her.

"Did you get that confirmation you were waiting for?" he asked, "The good news?"

 **iv.**

Heath met Kat out in the hallway with a very worried expression on his face. He and Tamara always looked worried these days, understandably.

"Have you seen those newspaper headlines?" asked Heath.

"I saw" said Kat, nodding in a sombre kind of way.

It was the last thing that Wainwright or any of them needed right now. That poor woman was dealing with enough stress and trauma without the press hounding her too!

"Kat, he's got it into his head that he's that woman's son…the one who's missing" whispered Heath. He was trying to keep his voice down so that Kyle wouldn't hear him. "I mean, he's not, is he? He can't be…? …Can he?!"

"Oh God!" groaned Kat, almost under her breath. This was the last thing that Kyle needed and she really didn't want to have to break the news to him. "No, he's not" she said, shaking her head at him and letting out a sigh of frustration. "He's too old" she said.

He let out a big sigh and looked down at the floor for a moment, nodding his head sadly. He'd thought as much.

Looking up at her again with worried eyes, he said, "Can you be nice… I mean… try to be gentle when you tell him that…?"

On some level he'd been hoping that the newspapers might be wrong about the woman's age. It would have been so much easier if Kyle had been right. At least they would have had their answer and Kyle could have begun to rebuild some sort of life for himself. Now he was back to square one.

"I just…" he said, glancing back at the room with a worried expression, "I don't know how he's going to take it."

"I'll do my best" said Kat, nodding and looking towards the door of the room.

She was nervous about this conversation. It obviously wasn't the news that Kyle had been hoping for, but she thought it was about as good as it was going to get for a while.

"But you said that you have some good news?" said Heath, brightening up a little. "Please tell me that you know who he is!?"

He really wanted Kyle to have some sense of identity back. Not having a name to call him by was very strange. There were only so many times that you could call someone 'mate' before it got on your nerves, and he'd had to fight the urge to call him Kyle on so many occasions. Being nameless also seemed to be reinforcing his feelings of worthlessness, and he just wanted him to have a name so he could make some sort of peace with himself.

She fiddled with the envelope in her hand, folding it and unfolding it, as she ran what she was going tjmo say to Kyle over and over in her head.

She gave him a little half-smile and said, "C'mon, Heath, let's go and talk to Kyle."


	18. Chapter 18

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks so much to Braxtonboyzz123 for all the wonderful reviews! :-) I can't tell you how much I appreciate your feedback, and the fact that you took so much time to read and review every chapter! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story and I love that you picked up on some of the smaller details too. You really made my day! And thanks again to FrankElza for all your support. Really hope you like this new chapter! xx**

 **xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**

 **Chapter 18**

 **i.**

Kyle held the envelope in his hand and stared down at it as though it might contain a bomb or something equally dangerous. He was scared to open it. Kat had gone now and he could hear that Tamara and Heath were talking to him but somehow their voices had just become a blur of noises that he couldn't decipher. All that he knew was that he had a letter in his hand and that he was too frightened to read it.

"Baby?" said Tamara, taking hold of his free hand and sliding onto the bed beside him. "Baby… are you okay?"

He turned to look at her with a dazed expression and tried to understand what she was asking him. He could see that she was worried, and that Heath was standing not too far away with his arms hugged across his chest, looking at him in concern. He opened his mouth to speak but the words just wouldn't come out. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, and then stared back down at the envelope in his hand. In an instant, this envelope had made him feel like he was that small child again, lost in a world that he didn't understand.

He wanted to open it. He wanted to know what was inside it so badly, but he was just too scared. The world had reverted so suddenly to a terrifying place full of pain and sadness. The place he had always known it to be. Every time he thought that he had a hold on things, something would happen, and everything would come tumbling down again. Every time he thought he was starting to make sense of the world. Every single time! .

He wanted to close himself away somewhere dark and never come out again.

Kat had broken the news that he wasn't Anna Lewis' son and it was pretty clear that he was heartbroken. There had been some developments in the case though. He was now high priority for the investigation in Melbourne and his case had even been assigned to a specialised investigative team who dealt with the most serious cases of child sexual abuse. There was no doubt now that Kyle had been one of the children kept in that house and they had conclusive evidence to prove it. The facial recognition software had locked onto Kyle's face in some of the photos and videos found on the property, and they'd managed to retrieve his little fingerprints from inside the cell he'd been kept in. They knew that he'd definitely been there, they just didn't know who he was yet.

Wainwright was sending the team down to meet with him in the next few days, but in the meantime, they were pulling out all the stops to try to find his birth family.

It wasn't easy because of his age and the limited tracking of child abduction cases in the 1990s. The fact that he didn't know his name, or have any recollection of his life before, meant that they were starting from scratch, with no clues or indicators to go on. They didn't know what age he'd been when he was taken, assuming that he had been taken, and that he hadn't been born in the house. They couldn't rule anything out. There was even the possibility that he might not be from Australia. Searching international databases would take even longer. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack but they were going to do their best to help.

Kat had expected him to be happy about it, knowing now that he had a whole team of people to help now, but he couldn't hide his devastation at the thought that Anna wasn't his mum. He'd wanted her to be his mum for so many reasons.

On some level, the thought that they might find his birth family terrified him, because then he'd have to sit down and talk to them about the things that had happened to him. They'd make him talk about his life in that basement. They'd make him talk about the things that were done to him. He didn't want to see the looks of pity and disgust in their eyes. He didn't want to be the child that they lost, but who returned as 'damaged goods'.

If Anna had been his mum, then no explanation would have been needed. She would have understood what he'd been through and maybe she would have understood his need to not talk about it.

Another part of him was frightened that they wouldn't be able to find his birth family. That maybe he'd just been an orphan, or a child that nobody wanted. Maybe his parents had given him away, or worse still, maybe they'd sold him to the Hames. Maybe they'd died in the meantime and maybe there simply wasn't a family out there.

Any number of things could have happened to place him in that house and he wasn't sure that he really wanted to know the sordid details.

He wasn't sure what he wanted anymore. He wasn't sure about anything...

He looked down at the letter in his hands and began to tear at it a little to open it. He looked at Tamara and his eyes began to fill with tears.

"I can't" he said, handing it to her with shaking hands.

She took it from him and caressed the side of his face gently before lightly kissing him.

"Do you want me to open it?" she asked, holding it up in front of him.

He nodded and looked out the window, gazing into the distance, with tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Read it for me" he said quietly.

"Uh… do you want me to go?" asked Heath, unsure if Kyle would want an audience for this and feeling a little uncomfortable.

Kyle shook his head, glancing up at Heath with a sad little smile, and said, "Stay". He turned again to look out the window and took a big breath when he heard Tamara unfold the paper from inside the envelope.

Tamara looked at the pages in front of her. They were a PDF version of a handwritten letter from the Summers, scanned in and sent to Kat by the police in Melbourne. She looked up at Heath giving him a nervous smile as though to say _'here goes'_ , and then she took a big breath and started to read.

" _To our beautiful boy,_

 _We've finally found you! We've been looking for you for years now, and we were beginning to give up hope of ever finding you again. When we saw all the coverage on the news, we recognised the names 'Simon and Jessica'', (you would sometimes say those nsmes in your sleep) and our hearts sank at the realisation that this is where you had spent some of your childhood. We're very sad that it had to be under these circumstances, but very relieved to have the opportunity to get in touch again._

 _We want you to know that we have always loved you. You hold a very special place in our hearts and that will never change._

 _Since you left, something has been missing in our lives, and we would very much like you to be a part of our family again if you will have us. More than anything, we would like to see you again and to know the man that you have become._

 _I think I owe you an apology. I know that things didn't end well when you decided to move out and go your own way, and I know in my heart that it's my fault. I shouldn't have tried to make you choose between your birth family and us. That wasn't fair. I understand now that you needed to feel that connection with your real family and that forcing you to give that up was wrong of me._

 _Just please understand that I was scared. I was worried about you getting mixed up in criminal activity and that Danny would lead you down the wrong path. I thought he would be a bad influence on you. But the truth is, I was jealous, and I was scared of losing you. The sad thing is, the more I tried to hold you back, the further I pushed you away. I'm so sorry. I wish that things could have been different._

 _Knowing now a little more about your background, so many things have fallen into place, and suddenly make a lot more sense. I can still see that little boy who came to us all those years ago, so closed and frightened of everything. You melted our hearts. I wish that you could have talked to us about the things that happened to you in that place, but I can understand why that was so difficult._

 _If you ever want to talk about anything, or you need anything at all, please know that Jenny and I would like to be there to support you, in any way that we can._

 _Our door is always open. We never stopped loving you._

 _We were told that you no longer use the name that we called you by, and that there is a huge question-mark hanging over your identity now. I don't know what to say about that. I'm so sorry. To us, it doesn't matter what your name is, you will always be our beautiful son._

 _Jenny and I would very much like to come to Summer Bay and see where you live now. Detective Wainwright said that you have a wife and a new little baby boy! We would desperately like to meet her, and our 'grandson', if that would be okay with you?_

 _If this isn't something that you want, or it's not something you can deal with right now, then we'll understand. I just hope that you know how much we both love you._

 _Your parents,_

 _David and Jenny xxx"_

Tamara set the letter down in Kyle's lap and reached for his hand. He continued to stare out the window so she reached up and turned his face gently towards her.

"Baby… that was the most beautiful letter I've ever read…" she said, with tears streaming down her face. "They sound like the kindest people!"

He nodded and opened his mouth as though he was going to say something, but before the words could leave his mouth, his chin started to tremble and he began to sob. She pulled him to her and he buried his face in her neck, his whole body shuddering as he cried. She looked at Heath and gave him a nervous little smile.

"Mate…" said Heath, smiling with relief, "They sound like good people… Why don't we get them to come visit?"

"No" mumbled Kyle, pulling away from Tamara. "Can you both just leave me alone for a while?" he said, getting out of the bed and climbing into the armchair by the window. "I just really need to be alone right now."

They both looked at him in surprise, not really sure what to do.

"Baby… I don't… why…?" stammered Tamara.

She walked over and placed her hand gently on his shoulder, but he just pulled away and put his arms around his knees.

"Get out!" he yelled at them suddenly, "Just get out!"

He wiped angrily with his sleeve at the tears running down his face and stared out the window again.

Tamara looked confused and dithered by the side of his chair. She didn't understand this reaction and she didn't want to leave him when he was clearly upset. "Baby?" she questioned.

"GET OUT!" he roared at her again, "Just go!"

"C'mon Tam" said Heath, taking her by the shoulders and guiding her towards the door, "I think he just needs a bit of space."

Kyle listened to Heath and Tamara leave and then unfolded the letter again to look at it. He recognised David's carefully printed handwriting, always so neat and precise, and he could see that Jenny had signed her name at the bottom in that swirly handwriting style of hers. She'd clearly added the kisses too.

He read through the letter again and he felt a pain in his heart when he thought how badly he'd treated them. It actually hurt to look at it. The guilt he felt was overwhelming.

A scene played out in front of his eyes as though someone had filmed it for him on an old video camera. It was like he was watching it all again. Watching himself with disdain as he made one of the worst decisions of his life.

He saw himself, red faced in anger, getting in David's face, and yelling hateful things at him. Telling him that he _'didn't need to be anyone's charity case',_ that he _'hadn't asked for them to take him in',_ and that 'they _should be happy, because now they were free to find some other fucked up little kid and get paid by the government to look after him. After all they weren't getting paid for him anymore. The gravytrain was over!'_

He watched himself as he started shoving clothes into a rucksack, steadfastly ignoring David who was desperately pleading with him not to go. He shook his head at himself as he remembered pushing past Jenny, who was crying and blocking the doorway. He could still see that look on her face, so sad, her arms pulled around her stomach, eyes red and puffy from having cried all night.

Then it was done. The door was slammed, and he had walked away from the only good people in his life. The only two people who had never let him down. He'd stomped out that door and climbed into Danny's ute, and he'd never gone back.

He felt so ashamed!

That David could sit down and write a letter this beautiful made him feel like he was the worst person in the world. He'd thrown all their care and kindness back in their faces, disappearing and never contacting them again, and forgetting the love that they'd shown him through some of the most difficult years of his life. He'd been an ungrateful little shit. What he'd done was unforgivable.

Yet, here _they_ were begging for _his_ forgiveness. He didn't think that he deserved a second chance, and he definitely didn't deserve this much compassion. How could they be so nice to him?! He balled his hand up into a fist and brought it down as hard as he could against the bone in his thigh. He revelled in the pain for a moment, letting it slowly roll up though his leg and unfurl itself, resonating through him, and dully throbbing... Then he did it again... and then again... always in the same spot.

He deserved to hurt. He deserved this...

 **ii.**

"Hey babe" said Heath, as he and Tamara walked through the front door. "Everything okay here?" he asked, giving her a tired smile.

Bianca looked up from the couch with Noah in her arms and gave them a worried look.

"Yeah… Everything's fine here…" she said. She could see that Tamara had been crying and Heath had his arm around her shoulder as she leaned in against him for support. "What's wrong?" she asked, glancing back and forth between them.

Tamara came over and sat beside Bianca, sighing and reaching her arms out for her baby. Bianca handed him over and said again, "What's wrong… guys?!"

Heath leaned down, putting his arms around her neck, and kissed her on the cheek. "I don't know, Bee… He's just so confused about things… He kicked us out."

"He kicked you out?!" she exclaimed, glancing round at Tamara who was holding Noah close and kissing him on the top of the head repeatedly. She just looked so upset. "Why'd he kick you out?!"

"He's upset… I think he just needed some space." said Heath, sitting down on the arm of the couch beside Bianca and taking her hand. "He got it in his head that he's that woman Anna's son… Kat told him that he isn't."

She looked up at him and covered her mouth in shock. "Oh God! He must be so disappointed!" she said.

"He got a letter from his foster parents…" said Heath, giving Tamara a little smile, "The Summers… The nice ones he told me about… They want to come see him"

"They wrote him the most beautiful letter…" said Tamara, "They said they love him and they want to come see him."

"Well…? That's great! …Isn't it?!" said Bianca, looking a little confused.

"Yeah it is" said Heath, giving a heavy sigh and rubbing his tired eyes. "I think it's just too much for him to deal with right now…"

Tamara started to cry again and Bianca turned to give her a little hug.

"He's just so messed up!" she said, sobbing and hugging Noah close to her. "I don't know what to do to help him!"

"Hey, you're already doing it!" said Bianca, leaning her head against Tamara's. "All you can do is be there for him!"

"That's not enough!" she said, getting up and rocking Noah back and forth, "I want _my_ Kyle back! Not _this_. Whatever _this_ is! ...I mean... I feel like I don't... It's like I don't know what he's gonna do from one minute to the next... and... and I'm tired! I'm so tired... but I'm not allowed to be!" She began pacing back and forth across the room. "I mean, maybe it's selfish to say this, but... I just had a baby! He's supposed to be looking after me, and looking after Noah... He promised me! And instead... instead..."

"Instead you're traipsing back and forth to the hospital every day" said Bianca, with an understanding little half-smile, "And you're having to pass your baby from pillar to post." She shook her head at her. "It's not fair Tam, it's really not!"

Tamara nodded miserably. "I just... I hate this!" she said through gritted teeth.

"It's okay to be upset" said Heath.

"Is it?!" she exclaimed angrily, "Cos I don't feel like it is! He's going through hell, and he's so broken, and scared... and what kind of person does it make me if I make everything about me?! What kind of bitch does that make me?!"

"A human one" said Bianca, "You can't beat yourself up for feeling neglected... He was supposed to be taking care of you..."

"But he's hurting so bad, Bee..." she sighed, "He's falling to pieces... Those... those Monsters hurt him so badly..."

"I know" sighed Bianca.

"And I can't be angry with him..." she continued, "He needs my support... and I'm supposed to just be okay with Kyle not wanting his name anymore?! With him not being 'him'?! ...With him being _this_... this emotional powder keg that I'm afraid I'm gonna set off?!"

"You don't have to be okay with it" said Heath, "I mean... I know I'm not."

"Yeah, Tam, it's okay" said Bianca, "I mean... This isn't easy for you... we know that..."

"I just feel like I want to screeeeam!" she snarled, "Or... or hit something!"

Heath nodded to himself for a moment before getting up and walking straight over to where she was standing. "Gimme the little man?" he said holding his hands out for him.

Tamara eyed him suspiciously but handed him over.

"Babe, can you take him for a minute?" said Heath, turning and placing him in his wife's arms, "Tam needs some stress relief."

Bianca smiled knowingly and took Noah out to the kitchen. She knew what he was going to do. She'd seen him do it with Darcy once or twice.

"Okay" said Heath, turning back to a perplexed looking Tamara, "Hit me."

"What?!" she gasped.

He grinned at her and held his arms out wide exposing his abdomen. "I said hit me!"

"I'm not hitting you, Heath."

"C'mon?!" he chuckled, as he gave her a playful punch in the arm and began skipping and shadow boxing a little like he was preparing for a fight, "What's a little girl like you gonna do to a big guy like me? Huh?! Bet you can't punch for shit?!"

"I'm not hitting you!" she said, shaking her head, "You're just being stupid."

"Scared, are ya?!" he taunted, giving her another little box in the arm, "You chicken?! Buck buck buck..."

"No, course not!" she said, rolling her eyes "I'm just not hitting my brother-in-law for no good reason!"

"Come on Shortie?!" he said, grinning at her in a way that he knew would annoy her, "Can you even buy adult clothes... or do you shop in the kids' section?!"

"You really think this is going to work?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest, "I know I'm short, Heath... Believe it or not, it doesn't bother me."

"Then...I think your hair's ugly" he grinned.

"Now you're just being an idiot" she said, self consciously tucking it back a little.

"And you smell of baby puke" he said, giving her a little push backwards.

"Stop it!" she said, starting to get a little annoyed with him.

"What if I won't?!" he asked, giving her another little shove, and then another, "Huh?! You gonna stop me?!"

"Stop it, Heath!" she whined, "I'm not in the mood!"

"What about if I do this?!" he asked, starting to tap her repeatedly on the shoulder. She tried to move away but he matched her step for step. "This isn't annoying you, is it?" he asked, in a mock-incredulous way, "Because you only have to say..."

"Heath!" she growled, as she spun to get away from him, but an arm was suddenly around her neck.

"What you gonna do?" he asked, getting her in a headlock, like he would have done with one of his brothers, and messing up her hair, "What you gonna do to stop me?! Huh?!"

"Stop it!" she growled at him, "I swear to God, Heath... Let me go!"

"Or you'll do what?!" he taunted, "What's little tiny Tam gonna do, huh?!"

"I'll fucking kill you!" she snarled at him as she tried to wriggle free.

"Well, why didn't you just say so?!" laughed Heath, as he released her and spun back in front of her. He could see her eyebrows furrowed together and her face bright red now. With her hair all messed up like that, she looked pretty funny, but she was also really angry!

"C'mon then?!" he said, holding his arms out again, "Let's see what you got?!"

"What's going on?" asked Josh, suddenly interrupting from the doorway. Heath turned to look, just in time for Tamara to charge forward and punch him in the stomach. Forcefully!

"Ummmffff!" groaned Heath, as he dropped to his knees. She'd hit a lot harder than he'd been expecting.

Josh looked startled when he heard Heath's breathy groan, followed by a sort of fleshy smack. "Tamara… are you okay?" he asked, scanning the room as he listened to her panting a little. "What's going on? Is something wrong?!"

"No!" she laughed a little breathily, "It's okay, Josh!"

"Yeah, it's... fine" winced Heath as he climbed back to his feet with a smile on his face. "Tam just packs a mean right hook" he laughed, as he nursed his bruised cheekbone.

Tamara smiled back, even as she massaged her bruised knuckles. She did feel better.

Josh looked confused, brows knit together with worry, but he didn't get to ask anything more before Tamara approached him. "Think you'd better come in" she said, as she reached out and put her hand on his arm, "I'll get us some coffee and we can have a chat."

She and Heath glanced at each other. They'd talked about telling Josh and Evie on the way home from the hospital. It was getting harder and harder to hide what was going on and it didn't seem fair to exclude him when he was _almost_ family. The hospital was planning to send Kyle home tomorrow, so they needed to prepare Josh and Evie for him coming back, and to make sure that neither of them would call him 'Kyle'.

Heath watched as Tamara led Josh to the armchair, and settled back on the couch nearby. He smiled when Bianca handed him an icepack for his cheek and then settled in beside him.

"Is Kyle okay?" asked Josh, when Tamara returned with the coffees, "It's just... I heard you talking about him earlier... and I know he's still in the hospital... so I...I was just wondering..."

"Well, that's just it" said Heath, glancing over at Tamara to check she was okay with this. She nodded and gave a nervous smile so he turned back to Josh. "I think we need to tell you something…"

 **iii.**

Kat sat at the kitchen table with her head in her hands. She was tired after a really long day and feeling pretty sick. The hangover was really hitting her now and she had nerves in her stomach just thinking about having to talk to Phoebe and pretend that nothing had happened.

She also felt bad about today. The meeting with Kyle hadn't exactly gone as she'd hoped. He'd just seemed so sad and broken, and she'd hated being the one to disappoint him like that. Sometimes she really hated her job.

Wainwright had been in touch to say that the investigation team were coming down the day after tomorrow to interview Kyle. She really wasn't sure that he was ready for it. He seemed to be swinging between manic over-excitement and sullen silence from moment to moment, and he clearly wasn't comfortable talking about things yet. She'd tried to point that out to Wainwright but he'd said that they had to try. The more information they had on the Hames, the closer they'd be to catching them.

She just hoped that he wouldn't freak out again.

She looked up when she heard the door bang shut and footsteps approaching out in the hallway.

"Hey Phoebe" she called out, as Phoebe walked in, "How was work?"

Phoebe walked to the fridge and took out two bottles of beer, before sitting down at the table with her.

"Yeah, fine" she said, sounding tired. She looked at Kat and gave her a smile. "How bout you? How'd it go at work without your laptop? Did they freak out?"

Kat looked at Phoebe thinking that her smile looked a little strange. There was something a little cold about it. She told herself that she was just being paranoid, and that she was seeing things that weren't there, her guilt just getting the better of her.

"Yeah, it's a bit of a mess… My boss has had to report me to Internal Affairs… I might get suspended." She pulled the out the elastic that was holding her hair back, and dragged her fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. "It's been a hard day."

"I bet it has" said Phoebe, raising an eyebrow at her and taking a gulp of her beer. "Any idea who took it?" she asked.

Kat shook her head, looking a little depressed.

"I don't know… I shouldn't have left it on the coffee table… I guess maybe someone left the door unlocked… and someone came in and took it." She took a swig from the bottle and said "I really shouldn't be drinking! This is what got me in trouble in the first place!"

"Ah, come on?!" said Phoebe, giving her a toothy grin. "Everyone's entitled to blow off some steam every now and then!" She glanced at Kat out of the corner of her eye as she took another drink. "Who were you drinking with last night?" she asked.

"Oh um… I… uh… just had a few too many by myself" said Kat, sounding pretty unconvincing. She blushed bright red and started staring at the label on her bottle, hoping that Phoebe wouldn't notice. She was getting very nervous now.

She glanced up at Phoebe, and furrowed her brow as she caught the strange smile on the other woman's lips. She began to wonder if she knew. There was something odd about her smile and the way that she was looking at her.

"Pheebs… uh… I…" she stammered, wondering whether it would be better to just come clean.

Before she got the chance, her phone began to ring and she reached in her pocket to pull it out.

She saw that it was Emerson and she glanced at the time in the corner of the screen. 23:42! She wondered why on earth he would be calling so late. She turned away from Phoebe and answered the phone.

"Sir?" she said.

Her eyes widened as she listened to her boss shouting at her down the line.

"But… how?" she started to say, before Emerson interrupted her.

Her face blanched white as she listened to what Emerson had to say and she got up and walked away from the table towards the living-room.

"Oh, my god…" she groaned, "I'm so sorry, sir! I don't know what to say! …I mean… Is there nothing we can do?!"

She turned back to face Phoebe with a look of horror on her face.

"Okay, sir, yes…" she grimaced, "First thing in the morning… yes… I'm so sorr…"

She looked at the phone and realised that Emerson had already hung up. She turned again and went to sit down on the couch, putting her head in her hands.

Phoebe gave her a curious look and got up from the table.

"Kat?" she asked, suddenly looking a little worried. "What's going on?! …Is it about the laptop?"

Kat looked up with tears in her eyes and nodded her head.

"It's about Kyle!" she said, with her chin trembling as she cried. "Someone got my laptop and they managed to hack it… All the investigation stuff… Some newspaper in the city got hold of it… The story is going to go nationwide in the morning! All his personal information…"

All the colour drained from Phoebe's face and she sat down next to Kat on the couch.

"You… you… you had stuff about Kyle on that laptop?!" she stammered. "Oh God!" she said, covering her mouth with her hand. "What was on there?!"

Kat looked at her and began to shake her head.

"Everything!" she said, pulling at her own hair in frustration. "That poor guy! I don't know how I'm ever going to make this up to him!"

Phoebe got up and started to pace the room. "This is my fault" she said, shaking her head at herself.

"It's my fault, Phoebe!" said Kat, leaning back with her hand on her forehead. "You just told your boyfriend… I'm the one that left that laptop lying about while I was too busy getting drunk…. I'm going to lose my job… and you know what?! …I deserve to!"

"That… That's not what I mea…" stammered Phoebe but she was interrupted by the door banging shut.

Ash walked in with a startled expression on his face and glanced back and forth between the two girls. "Um… I… What's going on?!" he asked, looking at Kat's puffy eyes and the look of pure shock on Phoebe's face. "What's happened?!"


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's note: Thank you soooooooooo so much to FrankElza for the incredibly lovely and detailed reviews! I can't tell you how much I appreciate you taking the time to comment. I put a lot of time and effort into writing these chapters, so reading your thoughts makes my day and encourages me to continue posting. Thank you so much for the support!**

 **Chapter 19**

"Oh, my godfather!" exclaimed Irene, as she held a tabloid newspaper up to show Chris. "Have you seen this story about Kyle Braxton?!"

"No, what's he done now?" he replied, glancing round from cleaning the coffee machine and shaking his head knowingly, "Those Braxtons are always mixed up in something dodgy."

She set the paper down on the counter and pointed at it. "It says here that he's not a Braxton… that he's one of those kids from that house in Melbourne! …God, the poor love…"

He turned to look at it, and they stood side by side reading the contents of the paper with troubled looks on their faces.

There was a photo of Kyle at thirteen years old, the one from his case file, but there was also one from much earlier. It was a freeze frame of his face, a little blurry and obviously taken from a video. It must have been filmed when he was only about six years old. It showed a child that was nothing but skin and bones, haggard and exhausted, and staring up at the camera with eyes wide with fear. With a noticeable cut on his cheekbone and the very obvious bruising around his wrists, there was no denying that this was a terribly abused child.

"This… This is…" stammered Irene, as she glanced at Chris in horror, "It's…just so shocking! That poor boy!"

Chris shook his head sadly. It was easy to see that both photos were of the man that they knew as Kyle Braxton, but it was shocking to see the boy that he'd once been, and to know what he'd been through. The article went into graphic detail about the conditions that he'd been kept in and even outlined the nature of some of the videos that he'd been forced to participate in, and of the photos that had been found on the property.

They had included a photo of Kyle's dark and dingy cell, as well as the yellow plastic bucket that the police had been able to retrieve his fingerprints from. Even after all these years.

They'd also printed the death certificate for Kyle Bennett, murdered at the age of 13, and buried in the Hames' backyard, and even gone as far as to outline the horrific manner in which the young boy had died. Just for good measure, they'd printed multiple pictures of the remains, both from the coroner's report, and from the burial site itself. It was quite shocking.

The article was spread out across three pages and very little had been left to the imagination.

The question seemed to be 'who is this man that calls himself Kyle Braxton?'

"Jeez, the poor guy…" sighed Chris, as he finished reading the article, "You'd never think he'd been through something like that… I mean… he seems so normal, doesn't he?"

"People hide things well" replied Irene, unable to tear her eyes away from Kyle's sad little face. "You have to... you just keep it locked inside, and never tell anyone... You can't... Something like that? It hurts too much."

Chris glanced at her in concern. She didn't seem to be talking to him. She was just staring down at the paper. Was she shaking?! Was she talking about herself?!

"Reenie?" he said, putting his hand on her arm.

She looked up at him and gave a weak little smile. "I'm alright love" she said, lightly patting his hand.

In truth, her mind was racing. She couldn't help feeling incredibly sorry for the little boy in that picture, and the man that Kyle was now, but it was stirring up old memories for her. Memories she'd kept buried for a lifetime. She wondered why he would have allowed those details to be put out there for mass consumption. Printed in the newspapers for all to see?! Maybe he'd thought it would be empowering in some way, but something like this was so deeply personal and such a painful subject, that she thought he'd regret it. She couldn't imagine having the whole world know about what had happened to _her_ , so she assumed the same would be true for him.

It seemed more likely that the newspapers had just run the story without the slightest consideration for the victim. If that was true, and he hadn't given permission, then this was the most shameful breach of trust imaginable, and she felt guilty for even reading it.

The whole thing was such a terrible violation.

Just then, someone cleared their throat quite loudly and Chris looked up to see both Alf and Roo staring down at the paper too. "Oh!" he exclaimed, "Didn't know you were there!"

"That poor boy!" said Roo, staring down at the pages and shaking her head sadly. They'd already read the paper over breakfast but Roo couldn't get Kyle out of her head. Those photos of him as a little boy had stirred up all of her motherly instincts and all she wanted to do was throw her arms around him.

"What must be going through his head right now?!" she sighed, "Everyone knowing his business? He's always struck me as such a private person. This'll destroy him!"

Alf gave a loud huff of disapproval. "What I want to know is how these newspapers get hold of this stuff?!" he said, "These newspaper blokes… they have no shame! The mongrels need strung up, the lot of them!"

Irene nodded at him, feeling a little dazed. "I wonder where he is now?" she said, looking back down at the sorrowful little boy in the photo, "I haven't seen him for a while…"

"I wouldn't want to be walking around with everyone talking about _me_ …" said Chris, "…Talking about… _that_ … I mean, it says here he doesn't even know who he is?! They think he's one of those abduction cases."

"Doesn't bear thinking about" said Irene.

"Poor little mite" said Roo, looking down at the photo of Kyle again.

Just then, Leah and Zac walked in and noticed the gathering up by the coffee machine. They'd read the story too and they could see the paper spread out on the counter, so there was no doubt about what was being discussed. Leah walked over and put her hand on Irene's arm.

"It's really sad, isn't it?" she said, looking at her with concern. Some part of her knew that she would be internalising this and linking it back to her own history of abuse. "You okay?" she asked, tilting her head at her.

Irene pulled her in for a hug and gave her a little squeeze. "Honestly, girly!" she said quietly, "Trust you to be worried about me, when it's that poor boy we should all be looking out for!"

Leah gave her a worried little smile and glanced down at the photo of Kyle in the paper. "I just don't know how someone could do that to a little child…" she said, her eyes welling up a little, "I mean, look at his little face… He was only a _baby_! Just a sweet little boy!"

Zac reached for her hand and gave her a sympathetic smile. She was three months pregnant but they hadn't told anyone yet. She was getting a bit over-emotional about a lot of things lately.

By the time Heath and Tamara walked in, a large crowd had gathered, and they were all talking in hushed tones. It was clear immediately that they were all talking about Kyle, and Tamara looked up at Heath with big worried eyes. She wasn't sure whether to turn around and leave again. She didn't know if she could face this.

"It's okay" said Heath, giving her a little smile and taking her hand in his. "C'mon" he grunted, as he dragged her over to the crowd gathered around the counter.

"Two flat whites" he said, catching Chris' eye as he pushed in to the counter. "And I'd appreciate it if you could all stop gossiping about my brother…" he added, glancing around the array of embarrassed faces, "Y'know? …At least while we're here."

There was an embarrassed hush for a moment, and people politely stepped out of his way so he could get to the counter more easily. Irene folded the paper up a little hurriedly and gave him an apologetic half-smile.

"Sorry, love" she said.

"Heath, y'know, we weren't really gossiping" said Leah, "We're just shocked, that's all… We all care about Kyle… and you, Tamara."

Tamara looked down at the ground and her eyes began to well up with tears.

"It… It's okay" she mumbled miserably, "Guess we'll have to get used to it… People talking about us…"

"Oh love!" said Irene, as she came around the counter and put her arms around her, "We're all just worried about you and… that poor husband of yours… That poor poor boy!" She pulled back to look at her and said, "If you two need _anything_ , you know that there are a lot of people in this town that'll be happy to help. You're not on your own, okay? Neither of you."

"That's right, love" said Alf, giving her a little pat on the shoulder, "We're all here to help if you need us… You need anything at all, just sing out."

There were multiple murmurings of support, with everyone adding their vote to the mix, and Tamara was almost sure that she heard Chris say something about free coffee.

"Thanks Irene… Mr Stewart…" she said with an embarrassed little smile.

She glanced around the other faces and they all seemed to be looking at her with a mixture of sympathy and pity. There was a lot of head tilting and nodding, and sympathetic smiles. It was all a little overwhelming.

As well-meaning as people obviously were, there was something incredibly patronising about the way everyone was acting. She hated to think how Kyle was going to feel when he finally came home and people started looking at _him,_ and talking to _him_ like this. He wasn't going to like it. Not one bit! If everyone was going to behave like this, then she could see already that he'd have problems leaving the house. Maybe he'd never go outside ever again?!

This was quickly becoming a nightmare that she couldn't wake up from.

 **ii.**

"All we can do is offer our sincere apologies" said Emerson, standing in Kyle's hospital room with his cap in his hand. His face was full of pity. "This shouldn't have happened!" he said, glaring at Kat as she stood beside him. She looked decidedly shamefaced. "And you can rest assured that we'll be carrying out a full investigation" he added, "…and disciplinary action _will_ be taken."

"I'm so sorry!" said Kat, glancing up at Kyle with a face flushed bright red with shame. "I didn't mean for this to happen! The last thing I would want to do is hurt you… I hope you can forgive me some day."

Kyle stared at the two of them there and felt his blood boil. All the apologies in the world weren't going to make this better. All they were trying to do was cover their asses. "Can you just go?" he growled, through gritted teeth.

There was a selection of newspapers stacked on the table in front of him, all carrying the same story as front page news. His face on the front of every newspaper! Nationwide! He shook his head and turned to stare out the window, trying to calm his breathing, and trying to reason with himself that _'getting angry isn't going to help anyone'._ It wasn't working.

Emerson nodded. "If you need to speak to me again" he said, "You have my number".

He placed his card on the table and turned to leave, glaring at Kat as he went. It was obvious that he didn't like the position she'd put him in.

Kat approached Kyle and tentatively put her hand on his arm. "I really am sorry" she said, with tears rolling down her cheeks, "I know there's nothing I can do to fix this…"

Kyle turned to look at her with anger boiling up inside his chest.

"I didn't ask you to get involved…" he bit out at her, "I didn't come to you about any of this… You just had to stick your nose in where it wasn't wanted, and… and now… look where we are!"

He got out of the bed and turned away from her, standing there looking out the window. He was clearly breathing heavily and the veins were standing out in his neck. So far, his attempts to calm himself down weren't working. He couldn't seem to unclench his fists or stop clenching his jaw. He hated this feeling!

He suddenly turned around, his face bright red and full of fury. "You've ruined my life!" he shouted at her, voice trembling with emotion, "I hate you! …I hate you so much I can't even breathe right now!"

"I'm… I'm so sorry" she said softly. The way he was staring at her was a little unnerving. So much anger, so much hatred… but above all, pain and hurt. She felt terrible.

"You're sorry?!" he spat back at her, "You're sorry?! …What… What am I supposed to do with that?!"

"I know it doesn't fix anything" she said, "But… but I… I just…"

"Shut up!" he groaned, interrupting her and holding his hand up to tell her to be quiet, "Just stop talking."

With that, he turned away again, hugging his arms around himself and closing his eyes. She watched him shaking in front of her, his whole body shuddering as he tried to breathe properly. She couldn't help wondering if she should call Nate. Maybe this was just too much for him?! She didn't want him fainting like he'd done at the station, or having another fit like the one she'd witnessed last week. That episode of self-harm had been pretty disturbing!

"Umm… Maybe…?" she began to say, "Maybe I should..."

"Everybody knows now" he said, speaking quietly, his voice breaking a little, "The whole fucking world knows what they _did_ to me now… They know everything! Every disgusting fucking detail… Because of you, they all know _everything_ … What they _did_ to me… What they _made_ me do! …You've put it all on display! …You've just… You've ripped me open for everyone to see…" He slumped into the armchair with an air of defeat, and covered his face with his hand. "How am I supposed to live with this?" he asked.

"I… I'm… I'm… so sorry" said Kat. She didn't know what else to say. There wasn't really anything else she _could_ say.

"They know where I am now" he muttered, "I can't even hide anymore." He brought his knees up to his chest and hugged his arms around them, rocking himself a little in the chair.

"Hide?" she asked, not quite following.

He visibly tensed, raising his eyes to hers abruptly, as though he'd just realised she was still there. He'd been talking to himself, not to her! He hadn't meant for her to hear it. "Never mind" he said, "It's done now… I'll just have to live with it…" He narrowed his eyes at her, "Thanks to _you_ "

"Is there nothing I can do?" she asked, sniffling a little and rubbing angrily at her tears with her sleeve.

She saw him glance at the newspaper on the top of the pile by his bed. It had an adult photo of him printed beside the one of him at six years old. He seemed almost pained by it. Frightened even?

"Just go?!" he sighed, looking back at her for a moment before staring at the newspaper again, "Please?! Just go away and leave me alone?"

She gave a heavy sigh and walked out to the hallway where Emerson was waiting for her. He gave her a very unsympathetic look.

"You deserved that…" he said, "…and more." He put his cap back on and started to walk ahead of her down the corridor. "Internal Affairs want to see you in half an hour" he said, speaking to her over his shoulder as she scurried along behind him. "And I'd stop that crying if I were you!"

 **iii.**

"Home, sweet home, eh?" said Heath, carrying Kyle's bag into the living-room for him. "Want me to get us some beers? I can go get us some pizza too if you like?"

"Heath?!" sighed Kyle, as he collapsed into one of the armchairs, "You don't have to try so hard! …Just …Just let me sit here for a while… Can you do that?!"

Heath gave him a little nod and threw himself down on the couch.

Tamara walked into the living-room with Noah in her arms and threw Heath a nervous smile. He'd agreed to go and pick Kyle up while she got the house ready for him coming home. She'd gone and got some nice pastries from the Diner so they could have tea when they got back, and she'd put Noah in a particularly cute little outfit too. It read _"If you think I'm cute, you should see my daddy"._

She walked over to Kyle and sat down on the arm of the chair, smiling down at him. He looked up at her and gave her an incredibly tired smile. He just looked exhausted, with big black circles around his eyes, and pale skin.

"Noah wants a cuddle from his daddy" she said, handing the baby over to him. "He's missed you!" she said, leaning over and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Hey, little man!" said Kyle, taking his little baby boy carefully in his arms and planting a gentle kiss on the top of his head. Feeling the extra weight, he marvelled at how much bigger and chunkier he seemed now.

He'd only been gone a week and a half but it felt like a lifetime had passed since he'd been sitting here. He looked down at the gurgling face of his little baby, and much to his own surprise, he began to cry. A wave of emotion just crashed over him, as he held the warm little body of his baby in his arms, comforting him instead of the other way around. His own body began to shake quite violently.

"Sorry" he mumbled as he looked up at Heath and Tamara. They were both looking at him with shock and concern.

"It… it's okay" stammered Tamara.

"No, it isn't" he grunted, as he wiped roughly at his tears with the heel of his hand, "I don't know why I'm like this! …I haven't cried so much in my life…"

"It's okay" said Heath.

Kyle looked over at him and shook his head despairingly. "I just can't seem to keep it together…" he said miserably, "It's… It's embarrassing!"

He brought his hand up to cover his face. He didn't want Heath witnessing this!

"I'm pathetic" he said, practically under his breath.

He'd always felt that the Braxton boys thought he was some kind of weakling, and now he was showing them all how much of a cry baby he could really be. He wiped at his face again, roughly with his fingers. He was furious with himself.

"This is ridiculous!" he said with forced laughter, "How big of a girl am I?!"

"Mate, c'mon, it's okay!" said Heath, tilting his head sympathetically. "You don't have anything to be embarrassed about… Hey?! …You think I don't cry?!" He kneeled down in front of him and said, "I cry… I cry when I think of Rocco… That still hurts more than I can even put into words… And I cry sometimes when I think of Casey…" He gave him a sad little smile and patted him on the knee. "I cry, mate… We all do… It's what makes us human."

Tamara looked down at Heath and thought how much she'd misjudged him in the past. She'd always thought that he was some sort of meat-head, an idiot who hardly had two brain cells to rub together. In fact, she'd often wondered what Bianca saw in him other than the fact that he had a good body.. He was pretty easy on the eye, she'd give him that, but she wouldn't have put Bianca down as the shallow type. It just hadn't made much sense to her before all of this.

Now she could see that Heath had hidden depths and he'd really surprised her over the last few weeks. He could be kind and gentle, and he was clearly incredibly loyal. He certainly wasn't a bad guy to have fighting your corner!

"Thanks" said Kyle, wiping his eyes again. He still looked pretty embarrassed. "Thanks for being here… for me and Tam" he said, giving them both a little smile.

He repositioned Noah, and set him so he was sitting upright and facing him, and smiled at his chubby little face. Noah gazed at him with big brown eyes, just like his mother's, and Kyle's heart just melted.

"I've missed you" he said, before pulling him in so he was lying on his chest. "I love you so much" he said to him, kissing his soft little cheek and stroking the hair on his head.

He wondered if anyone had ever held him like this when he'd been a baby. Had anyone ever held him in their arms and told him they loved him? Had anyone ever cherished him like this? Had anyone ever cared?

 **iv.**

Phoebe sat on one of the benches along the seafront staring out at the gentle waves lapping onto the beach. She had a newspaper sitting on the bench beside her, and she glanced at it every now and then, feeling an intense nausea in her stomach at the thought of what she'd done. She was waiting for Ash to come and meet her. She wondered how he was going to react, and if she would really have the guts to go through with it.

Ash rushed towards her in his black work uniform, wiping his hands on his trousers, and looking very nervous. He sat down on the bench beside her.

"Sorry, Pheebs" he panted, "But I don't have long! Angelo's is totally jammed today!"

He could see that she didn't look happy, and her text message hadn't exactly been friendly, so he figured this was probably the break up conversation.

"Can you just get it over with?" he asked, "I take it this is the break up chat?"

She narrowed her eyes at him and shook her head a little incredulously.

"So, this is how things end with us, is it?!" she said, in a bitter sounding voice. "On your ten-minute break from work?! A quick _'It's not working out'_ and that's it?!"

"I don't know what you want from me Phoebe!" he huffed, "You've hardly spoken to me for the last week… and now you say you have to talk to me and it can't wait… and I have to drop everything and come out here…" He looked at the anger so evident on her face and gave a little shrug. "Then I get here and you have a face like thunder! …So, what am I supposed to think?!"

"I know that you slept with Kat" she said, staring out at the beach and keeping her voice monotone. "I know that the two of you hopped into bed together while I was in our room just down the hall"

"Oh God!" he groaned. He felt like she'd just reached in and tied his stomach in one big knot. "Uh… so…?"

"Uh, uh…" mimicked Phoebe, looking at him with tears in her eyes. "So, yeah… I know what you did." she said, nodding sadly, "You… and _her_!"

"Fuck… I'm really sorry, Pheebs…" he said, flushing red with shame, "There's probably not much I can say…" He looked at her apologetically and grimaced a little. "We were really really drunk, if that makes any difference… and it just sort of… _happened_ … I was so drunk! …I mean, it was over in like less than a minute… which is… embarrassing…"

She stared at him with a look of pure disgust. "Because of you I may have just ruined Kyle's life!" she spat at him angrily. "Because of _you_!"

Ash looked thoroughly confused. "Hold on… Back up!" he said, "What do you mean?! …How has this got anything to do with Kyle?!"

Phoebe took a deep breath and looked back out towards the sea. "I'm the one who took Kat's laptop…" she said through gritted teeth. "I saw you two! …I saw the pair of you in bed together… and I just saw red!"

The colour had drained from Ash's face and he looked at Phoebe with disdain. "So instead of shouting at us, or kicking my drunken ass, you thought you'd just take Kat's laptop?! …What is wrong with you?!"

"I didn't think it through" she said, breathing heavily through her nose and glaring at him with pure hatred. "I didn't know there was stuff about Kyle on there! I just wanted to get her in trouble."

"What did you do with it?!" he asked, suddenly wondering who this woman was. Who had he been living with, and sleeping with, all this time? She was more devious and lot more twisted than he would ever have imagined possible. Why be so underhanded?

"I know a guy from a newspaper in the city…" she said, "From my old days in the music industry… I gave him a call and I gave him her laptop… I just wanted her to get in trouble with her superiors… I didn't think how it would affect other people… It was stupid. I know that now."

He shook his head at her and stood up, trying to put some distance between himself and this crazy woman. He put his hands on his head and looked at her in disappointed shock.

"So, you're the one that leaked the story about Kyle?!" he asked, just trying to get his head around it. "How could you do that Pheebs?! I mean, who are you?!"

"I'm the girlfriend that you cheated on!" she shouted at him angrily. "What was I supposed to do?! Just let you jump into bed with that skank?! Just let the two of you get away with it?! Let you hurt me like that?!"

"You could have shouted at us!" he yelled back at her, "You could have yanked me out of there by my hair!... You could have kicked my ass! There are so many other things that you could have done, Pheebs! Like a normal person… But… You _stole_ a police laptop and you gave it to the press!? Do you realise what you've done?! Kat is probably going to lose her job! And Kyle…" He rubbed his face in frustration and gave a loud sigh, "Jesus, Phoebe… You know what this is going to do to him! He's gonna fall to pieces over this!"

"You think I don't know that?!" she shouted at him. "But this is _your_ fault… both of you…"

"It's our fault you stole police property?!" he asked, "Have you completely lost it, Pheebs?!"

"You drove me to it" she insisted, "You didn't give me a choice!"

"You didn't have a choice?!" he repeated, "You didn't… Have you even heard yourself?! You're insane, you know that?!"

"Well, who made me this way?!" she snarled at him, "Huh?! Ash?! …Don't pretend you're the innocent party in all of this! …I saw you in her bed, Ash!"

"So, what's Kyle then?! Collateral damage?!" he asked. He was astounded at the cheek of this woman. She wasn't showing even the slightest remorse for what she'd done. "One of your closest friends?! Hung out to dry?! And you don't even seem to care!"

"Like I said!" she snarled at him, " _Your_ fault!"

"So, you got your revenge on Kat…" he sighed, "What was it you had planned for me?!"

She looked away again, staring out at the sea with her jaw clenched. "I hadn't figured that out yet" she said bitterly.

He let out an exasperated huff and said, "Well, what is it you want from me, then?! …What?! …Forgiveness?!"

"No" she said, turning to face him. "I said that I _hadn't_ figured it out yet… but _now_ I have." She got up and walked over to him, putting her arms around his waist and looking up at him with a sickly sweet smile. "I want you to take the blame for it." she whispered, "I want you to put your hand up and say it was you."

"What?!" he stammered, as he pulled her arms from around his waist. He was actually a little scared of her with the way she was looking at him. "What are you on, Phoebe?!" he yelled at her, "There's no way I'm doing that!"

"Oh, I think you will" she said, smiling again and nodding her head at him decisively. "You're going to tell Kat that it was you who took the laptop… whether you like it or not!"


	20. Chapter 20

**Once again, thank you so much to FrankElza for the amazing comment on the previous chapter! I'm blushing!** **J So glad you're enjoying it! Here's the next chapter!**

 **Chapter 20**

"I'd remember, wouldn't I?" murmured Kyle, suddenly piping up and breaking the silence. "I mean... If I'd had a family... and people who loved me… I'd remember them, wouldn't I?!"

Tamara looked up at him in surprise, and wondered if he was talking to her, or to himself. They'd been sitting outside in the sunshine for about the last two hours and Kyle hadn't said more than a few words since they'd been out there. It was the first time that he'd been outside in the fresh air for over a week and she'd thought that a bit of sunshine would do him some good. He seemed to need a little peace and quiet, so they'd just been sitting together, side by side in comfortable silence, and enjoying the sunshine.

Baby Noah was sleeping in the shade, snoozing softly, and making the occasional little grunty noise. He'd make these funny little snuffly sounds, and Kyle would look over at him, and smile every time he did it. Tamara loved to watch him with Noah. She couldn't have asked for a better father for her baby.

Josh and Evie were at Uni, and Heath and Bianca had taken the kids out for the rest of the afternoon to give him and Tamara some much needed space. The house was actually quiet for once, but out of nowhere, he suddenly seemed to want to talk.

"Don't you think I'd remember?" he asked again, in a quiet and distant voice. It sounded more like he was talking to himself and like he wasn't really expecting her to answer. "I think I'd remember..." he said, nodding his head slowly for his own benefit.

"It depends how old you were..." she offered, still not sure if he really wanted her input, and giving him a little shrug of the shoulders. "If you were really little…. like Noah..."

"Don't!" he said, giving her a startled look and then turning to look at his tiny sleeping baby. There was a look of horror on his face, at the thought that someone could just come and take him. "I don't even want to think about that!"

"But that's just it… Maybe you were just too small to remember them" insisted Tamara. "Even if they loved you, like we love Noah… If you were too little… you just wouldn't remember…"

"Yeah… I know" he said, as he rubbed his face and nodded sadly at her. She was right, of course, but it was something that just kept whirring around his head. He couldn't quite fathom the idea that he could have wiped away all memory, if they really had been kind and loving parents. Surely some vestige of a memory would have remained?

He leaned back and looked up at the bright blue sky. It was a beautiful day with hardly a cloud above and there were birds flying and swooping overhead. He thought how sad it was that so much of his life had been spent locked away indoors. At one stage in his life, sitting here like this in the sunshine would have seemed unthinkable. His world had been a dark and dank and gloomy place.

The day that he'd been dragged out of that house, kicking and screaming under the social worker's arm, he'd looked up at the sky for what had felt like the first time. It was like his whole world had been ripped apart and everything that he'd ever known had been demolished in an instant. The vast openness of the world outside that house, with endless blue skies, had seemed like the most terrifying thing in the world to him, when all he'd ever known before had been cramped walled spaces. To have no ceiling above him had been overwhelmingly frightening. It had made him dizzy and nauseous, and all he'd wanted was to go back to the basement, and to what he knew to be 'safe'.

He watched now, as a bird swooped down low over the garden, almost as though it was showing off, and he began to think back to the first time he remembered ever seeing a bird. It had landed on the windowsill outside the basement, and had stood there, high above them, peering in through the bars, as raggedy unkempt children crawled about on the floor in a desperate scramble for food.

He'd looked up for a moment, distracted by the small bird standing there on stick legs and watching them with beady little eyes. He'd been almost sure that it had regarded him with pity. It had been the first time that he'd really been aware of a world outside that house, and realised that he wasn't a part of it. That bird had been free to fly away, while he had gone back to counting bricks in the wall with his fingers, and seeing how long he could stay in a crouched position so he didn't have to lie on the damp floor.

He still felt an irrational anger towards birds sometimes when he saw them flying, as ridiculous as that was.

He blew out a big breath and turned back to Tamara. "Do you think we need to see a lawyer?" he asked, rubbing the sweaty palms of his hands on his jeans.

"What?!" she said, sounding a little shocked by the fact that the question seemed to have come out of nowhere. "Why would we need a lawyer?!"

He stared down at the wooden boards in the decking he was sitting on, and answered her in a voice that seemed a little detached and distant. "Because I've been walking around with a dead kid's name for the last thirteen years… and I don't know where we go from here." He traced his fingers over a knot in the wood beside him. "I mean… I don't know where I stand… where _we_ stand…I don't know if we're even still married… or what the legalities are… and I don't know what we do about my name… or Noah's for that matter." He threw her a brief half-smile, glancing at her quickly, before looking down again. "You could just go back to Kingsley, I suppose…"

She hadn't really thought about the implications of Kyle's loss of identity, and what that meant for them from a legal perspective, but she could see that he was right. If they weren't Braxtons, they'd have to figure out who they were going to be, even if that meant just picking out a name at random.

She got onto her knees and leaned her forehead against Kyle's, putting her arms around his neck. "I don't want to be a Kingsley…" she said, "I want to be whatever you are."

He gave her a sad grimace and said, "I don't know what I am, Tam! …I might never know!"

"Are you sure you don't just want to keep your name? I mean… It's been your name longer than it was his…" she said in a cautious way, not wanting to set him off or upset him. "I mean, Heath and Brax are still your brothers in every way that matters. You could just stay a Braxton"

"I can't" he said, shaking his head and glancing up at her with tear-filled eyes. "I can't be him anymore… I'd rather have no name than steal his name from him… It's just not right."

"Well, then… we'll be nameless together!" she said, leaning in to kiss him on the forehead. "As long as we're together… we'll be okay!"

He laughed suddenly, a little incredulous, and he wondered how he'd managed to find a woman so willing to stand by him through everything. Part of him couldn't understand what she saw in him. Why would she want to saddle herself with someone so messed up and carrying so much baggage?! He couldn't even give her his surname!

"I could take your surname?" he said quietly, "We could all be Kingsley's?"

She wrinkled her nose a little. "I think we should pick something else" she said, "Something that means something to both of us… I mean, how many people get to pick a new name for themselves? We could pick something really badass!"

"Maybe" he said, with a sad little smile, "You have something in mind?"

"Haven't really thought about it" she said with a shrug, "We'll figure something out though… It'll be fun."

"I guess so" he said, snorting at her 'glass-half-full' mentality. He was always amazed at her ability to see a positive in pretty much anything. "It's just weird not having a name… Mr and Mrs Someone… and Noah Someone…"

"I'll have a look for a lawyer" said Tamara, giving him a little smile. "Maybe we should talk to the cops as well?" she said. "That team that's coming tomorrow might know how to help."

"Maybe…" he said, nodding at her and giving a tired sigh. In truth, he was dreading having to meet with the Cops tomorrow. He really wasn't sure that he would be able to hold it together and answer their questions.

He'd been talking about things a little more over the last few days, learning how to put his trauma into words, and he had to admit that it was beginning to get a little easier. But talking to Tamara and Heath, and even the psychiatrist, was very different to being interrogated by the police. Having people that he didn't know come and ask him the most intimate questions imaginable was going to be very hard.

They'd told him that they were bringing a video camera in order to record his interview. They wanted him to make a video statement so that it could be used in the Hames' trial, and so that he wouldn't have to testify in open court when the time came. His stomach was churning over and over just thinking about it.

Tamara turned with her back to him, leaning into his chest, and pulling his arms around her. She smiled as she interlaced her fingers with his and placed her head against his shoulder. "I love you, Mr Someone" she said, with a little giggle.

"Love you too, Mrs Someone!" he replied, snorting a little. She never failed to make him laugh.

They sat there on the deck, enjoying the gentle warmth of the sunshine on their skin, and feeling a closeness that they hadn't had in a while. He kissed her on the top of the head and thought how incredibly lucky he was to have her. He didn't think that he would ever have been able to get through any of this without her. She and Noah were the only things that he had in his life that were really worth living for.

"You know… I do have some memories…" he said, staring into the distance as though he was watching them pass before his eyes. "I remember… 'things'… like objects… and smells… and I don't know… sounds, I guess?"

"Memories? …You mean? …From before?!" she asked, sitting up and turning to look at him excitedly. "What do you remember?!"

"Nothing very useful… probably… and I don't even know what's real anymore… I mean, maybe I've created, like… false memories?" he said, shaking his head. "Maybe none of it's real"

"Baby… You might think it's not important but maybe some tiny little detail…"

"I remember the smell of lavender" he said, glancing at her and raising one eyebrow sarcastically, "…somehow I don't think that's gonna help much!"

"You don't know that!" she said, starting to get a little excited. "Maybe we just have to find some way of unlocking your memories." she said, leaning over and tapping the side of his temple, "Maybe there's more in there than you think!" she laughed, giving him a big toothy grin.

"Oh haha, very funny!" he said, smirking at her, and choosing to take it as a light-hearted joke. He was glad of something to distract him from his thoughts of tomorrow's interview, and he loved Tamara for her ability to make him laugh, even when all he wanted to do was cry.

"I remember snatches of things… Nothing's very clear" he said, shaking his head and looking back up at the sky. "I don't know if I really remember this stuff or… I don't know… If I just think I do…" He turned to look at Tamara again and shrugged, "I thought I was someone else… Someone who's dead… So, who knows what's real and what's not?!"

"Okay… but… lavender?!… That would be pretty weird to just make up." said Tamara, "I mean… It's pretty specific if it's not true" It just didn't seem like something that you'd invent.

Her face suddenly lit up and she jumped to her feet. "Wait there!" she exclaimed, running towards the house, "I have an idea!" she shouted back at him in a slightly sing-songy voice.

He watched her go with a surprised look on his face, wondering what she was up to, and he watched the door with growing curiosity, waiting for her to come back.

She returned a moment later with a tube of handcream.

"Put out your hands!" she said, smiling from ear to ear.

He looked at the tube with suspicion and knitted his brows at her. "Why are you making me put on some flowery woman's handcream?!" he asked, shaking his head at her and laughing a little.

"Just trust me!" she huffed, nodding at his hands with a big excited smile on her face. "It's just an experiment! C'mon, it's not going to hurt you!"

He put his hands out palm side up and turned to look at Noah as she squirted the cream out. "Not a word to uncle Heath, okay Noah?!" he said, jokingly.

"Okay, rub that in… and then smell!" she said, smiling at him and looking all shiny eyed with anticipation.

He did as he was told, shaking his head at her in mock disapproval, and rolling his eyes in an exaggerated way. He held his hands over his nose and breathed in. As he took in the heady scent of the lavender on his own skin, a memory came flooding back to him, transporting him in an instant to another time and another place. Somewhere else…

 _There was a woman with long dark hair, wearing an orange silk scarf and a pair of earrings shaped like little elephants. She was holding him in her arms, cradling his body, high above the ground, and he was reaching for the elephants, wanting desperately to touch the silver metallic shapes dangling above him. The woman said something, laughing a little, and then pulled his hand away and kissed it._

Then, just like that, the vision was gone and he was back in his own garden. He tried breathing in the lavender scent again, but no matter how much he tried to make the vision come back, it just wouldn't. It was gone. _She_ was gone!

He looked at Tamara open mouthed with shock and his eyes began to shine a little with tears.

"I… I… That…" stammered Kyle, unsure of how to put it into words. "I think I just… I think I remember my mum?" he said, smiling through his tears.

He'd seen that woman before sometimes, in small flashes of something half-remembered, and not quite fully formed, but he'd never had a vision so vivid. He'd begun to wonder if he'd simply invented this woman, and created a false memory from things he had seen on TV, combined with the photo of Sarah Bennett, and things that Danny Braxton had told him. But this, today, had been so real. He could see the little elephants as clear as day. Silver metallic elephants that were hollow inside. He'd felt her arms cradling him so high above the ground, that it had seemed as though she was a giant, and he'd felt the softness of her lips as they touched his hand. He knew that she was real. This was real…

Maybe he did have a mother… Maybe he did have a family somewhere out there!?

 **ii.**

"You'd actually do that?! You'd tell the cops about Brax?!" stammered Ash in a voice that sounded a little dazed, as he stared out past her to the water's edge.

If Phoebe went ahead with this, the ramifications would be truly terrible. His mind was racing as he began to piece together the chain of events that would inevitably follow. The police would know that Brax was still alive, and that Ricky had gone on the run with him, and a nationwide manhunt would probably be launched. The people he was working for now, wherever he was, would see his face on the news and suddenly everyone around him would be scrambling to hand him in. Brax would go back to prison, and they'd add God knows how many years for faking his own death like that, and running away. Ricky would probably go to prison too, for aiding and abetting, and poor little Casey would end up in foster care. It was all so clear for him to see.

He could feel Phoebe watching him as he mulled it over. He glanced at her as she sat there beside him on the bench, and he wondered when she'd become so cold and calculating, and how he'd never seen this aspect of her personality before. That she would threaten this was just unthinkable. How could she do this to him?! How could she do this to Ricky, who was supposed to be her best friend?! Even worse, how could she do this to Kyle if she was meant to care so much about him?! Especially with everything that he was going through right now?

"Don't think I won't!" said Phoebe narrowing her eyes at him. "I'm not bluffing!"

She hoped that he wouldn't hear the panic and uncertainty in her voice. As soon as she'd uttered those words she knew that she'd gone too far. She couldn't really do this! She couldn't really do something this cruel! The last thing she wanted was to hurt Kyle, and handing his brother in to the police would be the worst thing that she could ever do to him. Much worse than the damage she'd already caused by giving his story to the newspapers. If she did this, then she'd have to give up on them ever being friends again, and she'd have lost one of the only people who really truly cared about her. And then there was Ricky who was probably the closest female friend she'd ever had. She couldn't really betray her to the police! It just wasn't something she would ever do! What kind of person would that make her?!

The only one that she really wanted to hurt was Ash, but the price that everyone else would have to pay was too high. She knew that she couldn't really go through with it. She just hoped that Ash didn't know that!

"How low are you actually prepared to sink, Pheebs?" he asked, turning to look at her with what looked like pity. "Are you really that much of a monster?!"

" You're the one that..." She began to say but he cut her off, putting his hand on her arm.

"Pheebs, I had a drunken fumble with my housemate when I was so out of it I could hardly see." He looked hurt and disappointed in her. "It wasn't an affair..." he continued, "I'm surprised I even managed it... but apparently I did... More or less... Neither of us can even really remember it... And it's definitely not happening again..." He turned and looked back out at the water. "That's for sure!" he said, sounding embarrassed.

"You think that makes it any better?!" she asked, thinking to herself that it kind of did.

From the sounds of things, Ash and Kat hadn't exactly enjoyed their midnight fumble, and she had made a gigantic mess of everything over something and nothing. But she was in over her head now and she couldn't really see another way out.

"No, I suppose not" he mumbled.

He rubbed his face in his hands, before turning to look at her again. It was as though he was really only seeing her for the first time. He really didn't know who this person was. The fun and beautiful Phoebe that he had known was gone, and all he saw now was someone so twisted and bitter that she was unrecognisable. He was angry and sad, and he felt guilty about the part that he had played in all of this, but more than anything he just felt sorry for her.

"I just want you to think about the fact that you're going to ruin a lot of lives if you do this..." he said, "Something so stupid and… and you're going to hurt all these other people… just to get back at us?!"

"No, Ash" she said patting him on the side of the face in a deliberately patronising sort of way. "The only life I'm gonna ruin is yours… If you don't do what I've asked… then it's on you… You'll be the one taking all these other people down with you…"

She got up and started to walk away, shouting back over her shoulder as she went, "2 hours, Ash! You have 2 hours!"

She hugged her arms around herself as she walked away, and as soon as she was out of view, she began to cry. It had taken everything she had to hold it together. She was just so angry and hurt! She'd put on a good act but she knew that she wouldn't really be able to do it if push came to shove. She couldn't really hand Brax in.

She hated herself in this moment and wondered how she could ever have done something so stupid! Taking that laptop had been the worst decision of her life and the guilt was eating her up inside. She didn't really feel bad for sabotaging Kat, but the fact that Kyle's life and the abuse that he had suffered was now public knowledge because of her, was something that she regretted terribly. She worried that Kyle would find out, and that knowing just how badly she had betrayed him, he would disown her forever. She loved him and she didn't want him to think that badly of her.

She wasn't proud of herself for blackmailing Ash either, but she was just so angry. She knew that it was an extremely underhanded and cruel thing to do, but it had seemed like a way to kill two birds with one stone. It would get her off the hook for stealing the laptop, and it would punish Ash for the hurt that he had caused her. This way, she might still manage to salvage her relationship with Kyle.

As she walked back towards her house, she pulled her arms across her chest again, feeling a little lost and alone. None of this was making her feel very good about herself, but she was here now, at this point in the road, and there wasn't really any turning back!


	21. Chapter 21

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so new chapter** **Thanks as always to FrankElza for the continued support. Your comments keep me going! Don't suppose there's much point in appealing to anyone else to comment, haha. The silence is deafening… but, oh well… enjoy anyway!**

 **Chapter 21**

"One… one more of those" slurred Kat, as she pointed at her whiskey glass and propped her head up on her hand at the bar. She knew that she'd already had too many but what was the point in staying sober on a day like today?

"That's the last one" said Matt, giving her a disapproving look as he poured her a single measure.

He was working as a part-time bartender in Angelo's now, while doing a TAFE course to be an mechanic. Kat had already been drinking when she'd come in, and she'd been noticeably tipsy, making him a little uneasy and unsure of whether to serve her or not. Normally he would have checked with Ash or Kyle but neither of them had been there to ask. He'd decided to let her have one or two drinks rather than have her kick off at him for refusing. Now he was regretting that decision.

She'd been knocking them back at an alarming rate, one after the other. No ice, just neat. Now, she was clearly well past the point at which he should have cut her off, and he really wasn't sure how things were going to go now when he had to ask her to leave. He cleared away her empty glasses, and wiped the counter down, giving her one last look of concern before he turned to serve another customer.

She choked down her drink, and scowled at him, as he served a blond-haired woman at the other end of the bar. The other woman was clearly flirting with him and she couldn't help feeling a little envious as he smiled and laughed and flirted with her, thinking how young and carefree they both seemed. Her life was a complicated mess.

Suddenly her gaze shifted to the bottle of whiskey that Matt had left sitting there and she had an idea.

"I de-decide when I've ha-had enough!" she muttered to herself, as she pulled a wad of cash from her pocket and set it on the counter.

She checked to see that Matt wasn't looking and then reached behind the bar for the two-thirds full bottle. With another glance to check that he wasn't watching, she swiped the bottle back over to her side of the bar and stuffed it inside her hoodie. With that, she got up, and started to wobble her way towards the door.

"Hey!" shouted Matt, realising that the bottle was gone, and clearly able to see that Kat was hiding something under her clothes. "Hey! You can't just take that!" he shouted again but she picked up the pace and started to rush out the door.

"Oi!" shouted Ash as she smashed right into him. He'd been halfway up the stairs and she'd made him lose his footing and stagger back two or three steps. "What are you doing?!" he asked, a little startled.

"I jus' wanna go home!" she said, beginning to cry and clinging onto the handrail on the stairs, as she swayed and tried to focus her eyes to look at him. "They won't lemme have another drink, Ash… It's not fair!" she whinged.

"You're drunk" he said, stating the obvious.

"Shhhh! Don't tell anyone!" she whispered loudly, putting her finger to her lips in an exaggerated way. She opened her hoodie and showed him the bottle that she'd just stolen. "Lez go home and have a drrrink?!" she grinned, nodding to him as she started to walk down the stairs.

"Easy there!" he gasped, as she missed a couple of steps before righting herself again with the help of the bannister.

He was shocked to see how drunk she was, especially at this time of the day, and he knew that he needed to get her home before the entire town started talking about her. A cop couldn't afford to be seen behaving like this in the middle of the afternoon!

"I'm fffine" she giggled, as she began to wobble down another couple of steps.

"Ohhh-kay, c'mon?" he coaxed, as he took hold of her arm and began to guide her carefully down each step, "Let's get you home? …And get you a nice cup of coffee, eh?"

He was worried that she might lose her footing again and end up in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

"No coffee!" she huffed, with a childish pout on her face, "I lost my job today… sssoooo I think I'm en-entitled to a drink if I want one!"

She hugged the bottle under her arm and started to walk away from him as quickly as her wobbly legs would let her.

He stood there for a moment with his mouth hanging open as he registered what she'd just said. He figured that he must have misunderstood. Surely, they wouldn't fire her for simply losing a laptop?!

"Wait, Kat!" he called, as he jogged a little to catch up with her. He caught hold of her elbow and turned her to look at him. He was shocked to see the tears streaming down her face and realised that what he'd heard her say the first time must have been true. "Wait, you lost your job?!" he asked.

"Azzz good as!" she said, slurring her words a little. "Suzzzpended, p-pending further re-review, with a recomm-endation to dis-dismiss."

"Oh, my God, Kat!" he exclaimed, unsure of what else to say, "I'm so sorry!"

He wondered how such a poorly-executed, and largely embarrassing, tumble between the sheets could have caused this whirlwind of chaos. How could Phoebe justify ruining both their lives over something so meaningless and stupid?!

He put his arms around her and pulled her in for a hug.

"I'm so sorry!" he said again, as she collapsed sobbing in his arms.

She pulled away from him a moment later and looked at him with eyes full of tears. "It was Phoebe wasn't it? She's the one that took my la-laptop?"

He was startled, and surprised that she had figured it out when he hadn't, but he looked into her big sad eyes, so full of hurt, and nodded. He couldn't lie to her about this.

"Yeah… It was Pheebs" he said sadly.

He felt his stomach give a terrible lurch at the thought of what he'd just done. Admitting that to her, when he was supposed to be taking the blame himself. If Brax went to prison because of this he'd never forgive himself, but he was going to have to take his chances with Phoebe and hope like hell that she didn't go through with her threats. Surely, she couldn't really be that cruel?!

She nodded her head sadly and said, "I saw the w-way she was looking at me… and ad you… I just didn't wannit to be true!"

"She saw us in bed together" admitted Ash, "This is her twisted way of getting revenge."

She just nodded at him in a defeated sort of way that didn't seem like the feisty Kat that he knew.

"But if you know…" he said, "Why haven't you told your boss? Why hasn't she been arrested?!"

"Whaztha point?!" she said, pulling the bottle out from inside her hoodie and taking a slug from it.

"Hey, Kat, gimme that!" he scolded, as he tried to take the bottle from her. "You've had enough for one day"

"Get off me!" she shouted at him as she wrestled the bottle back out of his hands. "Just leave me alone, Ash!" she yelled, as she began to stagger her way towards the beach.

He followed her as she wobbled her way very unsteadily down onto the beach and collapsed onto her knees. He crouched down beside her and she looked up at him with an angry scowl on her face.

"Why can't you jus' leave me alone?!" she roared at him, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. "I jus' wanna be on my own!"

"Kat, you need to tell your bosses that it was Phoebe…" he reasoned, "That it was your housemate that took it!"

Even as he said it, he was fully aware of the fact that he was putting Brax at even greater risk, but it just seemed wrong that Kat would lose her job over something that someone else did.

"Wouldn't change anything" she sighed, shaking her head and taking another gulp of whiskey. Ash watched on in concern. "I was still on a caution over the whole… th-thing with the ha-handcuffs and gun. All they see is a cop who leaves ev-ev-everything lying around so other people can take them!" She looked up at Ash again and started to laugh in a sad sort of way, "They'd be right!"

"Kat, that's not fair" he said, shaking his head at her. "Neither of those things were your fault!"

"Not how they see it" she said, shaking her head at him, and staring out at the waves. "Can you jus' go?" she said again. She held the bottle out to him and said, "Here, take it… I won't drink any more… I jus' wanna be alone for a while."

He took the bottle from her and wondered whether it was a good idea to leave someone so drunk on the beach like this. To be fair, taking her home didn't seem like that great an option either. Phoebe would be there and he didn't know what he was going to say to her. Maybe some time on the beach wouldn't be such a bad thing. He decided he'd leave her there for now and come back and check on her in a while.

There was something he needed to do first…

 **ii.**

"Hey guys!" shouted Bianca, as she heard Kyle and Tamara's bedroom door open.

They'd come home while Kyle and Tamara had been 'otherwise engaged' and she didn't want to startle them with her presence. She was busy getting things ready for dinner, Harley was having a nap, and Heath was out in the garden with Darcy getting the barbecue sorted. They'd thought it would be nice to have a sit-down dinner together, and the weather was so nice, it made sense to have a barbecue.

Kyle and Tamara walked out into the living-room looking a little shame-faced at the realisation that they'd had an audience for the last while. They might have tried to be a little quieter had they known. Tamara smirked at him a little, and then walked out to the kitchen, while Kyle threw himself on the couch.

"Hey" she said to Bianca, giving her a sheepish little smile. "When did you guys get back?" she asked, trying to sound as casual as possible, but the redness in her cheeks and her slightly dishevelled appearance gave her away.

Bianca couldn't help smirking.

"About half an hour ago…" she said. She continued expertly chopping up the salad for later and glanced at her for a moment with a knowing smile. "We didn't want to… _disturb you_ " she said, biting her bottom lip in an effort to stop herself from laughing. It wasn't really working.

Tamara began to laugh too, smiling across the room at Kyle, and enjoying the joke as much as Bianca. She really didn't care if the whole world had heard them. Today had been important for her and Kyle. He might not have a name to call himself by, but he was still the man that she loved, and she'd wanted to show him that. It was also the first time they'd had sex since before Noah was born and she was relieved that at least that aspect of their relationship hadn't changed.

Heath walked through the door, still laughing at something that Darcy had said, and looked back and forth between Tamara and Kyle with a big cheesy grin on his face.

"Nice of you two to join us!" he said, "…but then… I suppose you've been _busy_ , haven't you?!"

"Dad?!" whined Darcy, "You're so embarrassing!"

He threw an arm around her neck, and pulled her in to give her a sort of noogie, in a joking way.

"Isn't that what all teenagers say?!" he giggled, taking great pleasure in messing up her hair, as she squealed in mock annoyance, and laughed at him.

"Stop it dad!" she whinged, pulling away from him and running her fingers through her hair to smooth it. "You're particularly embarrassing! A whole other level! None of my friends' dads embarrass them this much!"

"Slackers!" said Heath, giving her a wink and a toothy grin. "That's what dads are for!"

"Uncle K…" said Darcy, wanting to bring him in on the joke but catching herself before she said 'Kyle'.

Suddenly, she looked a little perplexed, so she walked over and perched on the arm of the chair beside Kyle.

"Darce?" he said, gazing up at her. She seemed a little lost in thought.

"I was just wondering what I should call you now?" she asked in an innocent and child-like way.

Everyone flinched a little at the bluntness of the question, particularly Kyle.

He looked up at her soft blue eyes, and realised that he didn't have the slightest clue how to answer her.

"Uh… I'm…" he stammered, looking at Tamara for help. "I…?"

"He's just figuring that out Darce" said Heath, as he threw her an admonishing look. They'd already talked about this.

"But you have to have a name!" she insisted, "Why not 'John', like John Doe? …They always do that in movies when they don't know who someone is…"

"Darce!" scolded Bianca, with her hands on her hips, "Leave your uncle alone! We talked about this!"

Darcy could be very wilful and quite insensitive at times and it was something that they always seemed to be apologising for. For a sixteen-year-old girl she was still very immature.

"It's okay" said Kyle, as he stared down at the floor a little vacantly, "I guess John is as good as anything."

Heath frowned at Darcy.

"John?" said Kyle, as though he was testing the sound and shape of the word in his mouth, "Yeah… I guess John'll do… for now."

He couldn't help wondering if he'd ever find a name that really fit as much as 'Kyle' had. It was weird how much of his sense of identity was tied up in that name. Without it, he was just the 'boy' again. That child waiting in the dark to be used and abused. 'John Doe' seemed to fit well enough for a child that nobody wanted or cared about.

Tamara walked over and sat down beside him, reaching for his hand. She gave him a little smile. "I don't think you're a 'John'" she said, shaking her head. "I think we can do a lot better than that."

"For now, John'll do" he said, shaking his head in a tired way, "Maybe if we find my family, I won't have to choose a name at all."

She nodded at him and kissed him on the cheek. "Okay, John…" she said, giving him a little smirk. "Does that mean I have to change my surname from 'Someone' to 'Doe'?"

He rolled his eyes at her, but he couldn't help but smile. Mr and Mrs Someone had certainly enjoyed themselves in the bedroom earlier! It seemed a shame to give them up so soon.

"John Someone has a nice ring to it, don't you think?" he said, squeezing her hand and raising one eyebrow at her.

"I think Tamara Someone is enjoying having her husband back!" she said, smiling from ear to ear, as she leaned in for a kiss.

Heath and Bianca glanced at each other, not sure what all this ' _someone_ ' talk was about, but pleased to see Kyle and Tamara in such a good place in their relationship despite everything that was going on. Heath threw Bianca a wink and guided Darcy away from the couch towards the kitchen.

"C'mon Darce?!" he teased, "Let's give Auntie Tam, and Uncle _'John'_ some space then!"

 **iii.**

Ash sat outside the house in his car, trying to pluck up the courage to go in there. This was going to be so hard. With everything that Kyle was going through right now, it seemed particularly cruel to tell him that one of his best friends, probably his oldest friend, was responsible for those news stories. He would be terribly hurt when he found out that it had been Phoebe, but Ash thought that he deserved to know.

Not only that, but he needed to know about the threats she'd made towards Brax and Ricky. He couldn't let him stay friends with a person so willing to rip his family apart, and hurt him like this, just for her own selfish reasons. If anyone had a chance of talking Phoebe out of it, it was Kyle.

He took a deep breath and got out of the car. Clenching his fists as he walked up the drive, he didn't remember the last time he'd been this nervous!

He knocked on the front door and waited, suddenly aware of how fast his heart was beating, but there was no answer, so he knocked again. As he stood there, he became aware of voices and laughter in the air, but the sounds didn't seem to be coming from inside the house. The more he listened, it became clear that they were coming from the garden, and now that he thought about it, he could smell barbecue smoke on the breeze.

He opened the garden gate and walked in, shouting "Hello? Tamara? Heath? You guys out here?"

He'd refrained from shouting 'Kyle' because Heath had been doing a lot of shifts in the restaurant over the last week and he'd made it clear to the staff that no-one was to use the name 'Kyle' with him anymore. That had been a tough one to explain without going into the gory details, but everyone knew everything anyway now, thanks to those news articles!

"Yeah?" shouted Tamara. "Oh, hey Ash!" she said, giving him a friendly smile as he walked towards them. "Want a burger… or a beer… or something?"

"No, thanks Tam" he said, looking very nervous and clearly sweating a little. He gave Kyle a very serious look and said, "I really need to speak to you… and Heath."

"Oh-kay?" said Kyle, looking a little worried. Ash looked like he'd seen a ghost and it wasn't like him to be so serious either. "Will I come into the house?" he asked, getting to his feet.

He glanced at Heath and raised his eyebrows at him, wondering what all this was about. He gestured with his head for Heath to come too, guessing that it must have something to do with Brax if he wanted to speak to both of them. He gave Tamara a nervous little smile, and began to follow Ash towards the house, feeling his heartrate pick up and feeling a little shaky already. He was so tightly wound up these days, that he was never far from a panic attack, and he really wasn't sure that his nerves could take more bad news.

The three boys walked into the living-room, and Kyle stood there with his arms folded across his chest, trying his best to hide the growing sense of panic he was feeling.

"What's going on?" he asked, dreading what the answer was going to be.

Ash took a deep breath, and crossed his arms too, in an attempt to hide his nervousness. He really wasn't sure that he was doing the right thing, but he was here now… He couldn't back out.

"I'm just… going to… to come out and say it" he stammered.

The two boys nodded in encouragement, as though to say ' _Okay,_ _we're listening'_.

He took another big breath and then just blurted it out. "Phoebe took Kat's laptop" he said, "And then she gave it to some journalist guy… and now she's blackmailing me to take the fall for it…"

"She what?!" gasped Kyle, suddenly looking white as sheet, "It was her?!"

"What's she got on you?" asked Heath, with narrowed eyes.

Ash gave a heavy sigh, "She's threatening to tell the cops about Brax if I don't!"

 **iii.**

Phoebe sat in her kitchen absently tearing at the label on a bottle of beer. There was a graveyard of bottles arranged on the table in front of her at this stage, and she was certainly well past the point of being tipsy. She kept glancing at the clock on the wall, wondering what had happened, and whether Ash had gone through with it or not. It was well past the two hours' time limit that she'd given him but she hadn't really thought the whole thing through properly. She didn't know how she was meant to find out if he'd handed himself in. It wasn't like Kat was going to come straight home and tell her.

Suddenly the door swung open, sounding like it would come off its hinges, and Kyle appeared through the door of the kitchen looking wild-eyed and red in the face. She jumped to her feet, startled at the violence of his entrance, and more than a little surprised to see him out in public so soon.

"Wuh? …What are you doing here?!" she stammered.

"I can't believe you?!" he shouted at her, with a look of hurt and disgust on his face. "I can't believe you'd do something like this to me… I thought we were friends?! …I _loved_ you… I can't believe you'd want to hurt me like this!... What did I ever do to you?! Why… Why would you…?! "

"I… I… What?!" she stuttered again, "I don't…"

She wasn't sure how much he knew and wondered if there was any way of salvaging things if she was economical with the truth in some way. She really didn't know what to say.

"I know what you did!" he said, his voice breaking as his eyes filled with tears. "I forgave you for telling Ash, I _forgave_ you for that… But now you go and do something so terrible… so _cruel_ … I don't even know who you are anymore…"

He wrapped his arms around himself as his anger was slowly turning into despair.

"You're the person I've known longest in my life!" he said, "I let you in… I let you get closer than anyone …I can't believe I actually thought I could trust you!"

Looking at Kyle's pained face, she didn't know what to say. She was shocked to see him there quietly crying in front of her. He just seemed so broken.

"I… I'm sorry" she said, flushing bright red with the shame of it all. "I didn't mean any of it!"

"You never do" he said, shaking his head at her in disappointment. "It's always about what _you_ want… what you think _you_ deserve… You're the most self-centred, thoughtless person, Phoebe! You never give any thought to the people that you're hurting"

He was sobbing and shaking now. As he stood there in front of her, he couldn't help feeling the most overwhelming sense of defeat. Was there was no-one in this world that he could really trust?! This was a woman that he'd loved, and who he'd wanted to share his life with. If he couldn't trust her, then how could he trust anyone?! Should he be keeping Tamara at arm's length too?! The loneliness of that thought just crashed down on top of him.

He reached out a shaking hand, pulling out one of the chairs, and collapsed into it with an exasperated sigh. Feeling his whole body heavy with exhaustion, he would have liked nothing more than to crawl away and hide.

"Why would you do this to me?" he asked quietly, "…You sold my story!" He looked up at her with hurt-filled eyes. "Do you have any idea what that's like?" he asked, "For everyone to know… To know that you were raped and tortured as a child? To know that you were _used_ like that? …People look at you differently… they talk differently…" He hung his head and stared at his shoes. "I'm not me anymore" he sighed, "I'm just a victim… a pathetic rape statistic… damaged goods."

She bit her lip, feeling a deep sense of guilt, but she was fairly sure that there was nothing she could say. Nothing that would make things better anyway.

"I'm so sorry" she muttered miserably. Tears of self-pity were streaming down her cheeks. "I didn't know what was on that laptop."

"So you say, Pheebs" he said with a bitter little laugh, "But everything you've done since makes me think that you knew exactly what you were doing."

She looked up at him in shock. She was actually surprised that he would think her capable of such a thing. That she'd done it deliberately?! "I didn't, Kyle! I promise you!"

He winced at the sound of his name on her lips. "Don't call me that!" he said, grimacing a little.

"What?" she asked, with a look of confusion.

"That name" he growled, "That's not me!"

She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

"I don't have a name anymore…" he said sadly, "But you're the real mystery! I really don't know who you are! …I really really don't."

He got to his feet again and leaned against the kitchen counter, looking at her with disgust.

"You were actually going to use my brother…" he said, "…To make Ash take the fall for you?!"

"No, Kyle" she started, but he shot her such a dirty look at the use of his name, and the blatant lie, that she shut up immediately.

"Yes, you were!" he bit back at her, "I mean…How low can you actually get?! …Isn't Kat losing her job enough for you?! Isn't that enough?! …How many people do you want to hurt along the way?!"

She looked at him with a mixture of shock and horror on her face. She hadn't expected Kat to really lose her job over something like a laptop theft. She'd just wanted to get her in trouble.

"I didn't mean for that…" she blurted, but Kyle interrupted her.

"What if I'd done something like this when you and Ash got together?! Huh?! …What if I'd decided to try to ruin your lives?! I mean, I could have. You don't think I was angry?!"

She looked down at the ground in a shamefaced sort of way. She knew he was right.

"Normal people don't do this kind of shit" he said, "Normal, _decent_ people don't! …They just don't! …I get that you were angry, but you shout, you _yell_ , you hit him if you have to… You don't do _this_! Not _this_!"

"I know" she said, slumping into the chair that he'd been sitting in and hugging her arms around herself. She began to sob. "I know, alright!?" she shouted at him.

"I don't think you do" he said a little coldly. "You can't do something this cruel and… and… devious… and then just say _'my bad, I'm sorry!_ ' …It doesn't work like that!"

She nodded but she didn't really know what else to say. She looked up at him with big teary eyes.

"I wasn't really going to tell anyone about Brax" she offered.

"That's not the point, Pheebs!" he snapped, although in truth, he was relieved if that really was the case. "You still wanted Ash to take the blame for something you did… something so terrible… I really don't know how you sleep at night."

"I'm sorry… I don't know what else I can say…" she said, looking up at him with a plaintive expression. "I don't want to lose our friendship!"

He looked at her in shock. "You think we're still friends?!" he gasped, "…After this?!"

He couldn't hide the disgust on his face and he wondered how she could be so completely clueless that she'd think he could ever trust her again.

"If you'd come to me and told me about the laptop…" he said, reasoning with himself more than her, "Then maybe… But to threaten my family like that?! To put them at risk?! I can't have someone like _you_ around me… or around the people I care about. I've had enough bad people in my life!"

"But Brax isn't even your brother!" she blurted out before she'd even thought about what she was saying. "Oh god!... I didn't mean that!" she said, covering her mouth in shock at her own stupidity.

Kyle closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the skin at the bridge of his nose, and let out a heavy sigh.

"Those boys are the only real family I've ever had" he said, in a quiet sad voice. "And okay, we might not be blood, but they've stood by me through everything… even _this._ "

He pushed away from the kitchen counter and stood to look at her one last time.

"I think we're done…" he said, with the saddest sigh possible, "You're just not the person that I thought you were and I can't tell you how sad I am that that person's gone…"

"But I…" she began to say.

He held his hand up to tell her to be quiet.

"That person, that girl I used to know? She was pretty great… and I loved her with all my heart… I don't know what happened to her. But _you_?! …You're _not_ her!" He ran his fingers through his hair and gave a sad little snort. "I loved you once…" he continued, "I just hope you'll remember that… and maybe you'll think a bit harder about the way you treat the people around you."

She got up and tried to put her arms around him to give him a hug but he pulled her arms away.

"I hope you can find some happiness some day" he said to her, giving her a little kiss on the top of the head before stepping away. "This bitter and twisted thing? This ugliness?" he said, as he backed away towards the door, "It's not good! It'll just eat you up from the inside."

She watched him leave and sat back down at the table with her lukewarm, half-drunk, bottle of beer and began to sob. She'd never felt more lost and alone, and what was worse, was that she knew he was right. She'd brought this all on herself!

She picked up her phone and texted Ash, hardly able to see the screen through her tears.

' _I'm sorry. I won't do it. Don't say anything to Kat. I'll come clean and hand myself in in the morning'_

She set the phone down on the table and buried her face in her hands. She wondered how she could have made such a mess of things!


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: Thank you soooooo much to both FrankElza and Braxtonboyzz123 for the lovely reviews. I'm glad you're enjoying this story so much. I think the last couple of chapters were needed, in that they were a little lighter with some nice family scenes, but we're back into darker territory with this one. Poor Kyle** **Let me know what you think.**

 **Chapter 22**

"Hey Tam" said Heath, as he walked into the kitchen. "Where is he?" he asked, looking at her with concern. She seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, absently wiping the kitchen counter in small circles, and staring into the distance in a vacant sort of way. The counter was definitely clean by now.

"Out in the garden" she said, sounding a little dazed. "He needs a bit of space"

"I take it the interview didn't go well then?" he asked, looking towards the back door with ever growing concern. "Is he okay? Are you sure he's okay out there?!"

She looked up at him properly, with big worry-filled eyes, and shook her head slowly. "I had no idea…" she said, "No idea how bad it was…"

He took her hand and led her over to the couch, making her sit down, and then plonking himself on the coffee table in front of her.

"You mean the interview?" he asked, starting to really worry. She just looked so dazed and shocked, and whatever had happened while he'd been gone, it had obviously really shaken her.

"No… The interview went well… I suppose…" she said, blinking back tears. "He got through it… and they got what they needed… I just didn't know how bad things had been for him in that house! …I didn't know what they'd done to him!"

His face blanched white, and he swallowed hard. He wasn't sure that he wanted to know the details. "You were here for the interview? I mean they let you stay?! He let you listen?!"

She nodded and her eyes filled up with tears. "I wish… I'm just so sad for him… No-one should have to live like that! He's been carrying that around with him all these years!"

Heath really didn't want to know. Not the gory details. His head was already filled with imagery that he worried he might never get rid of. Thinking of Kyle as a small child, being mistreated so badly, made his heart hurt. He just wished that there was some way that he could go back in time and change things for him. He felt so powerless to help. That wasn't a feeling he was familiar with and it scared him. Normally he'd just go beat someone up, but he couldn't do that this time.

"It was worse than what he's already told us?!" he asked, grimacing a little.

"So much worse, Heath!" she said, clamping her eyes shut and shaking her head. "He spared us both the details…"

He nodded and glanced out at the kitchen, thinking that he should go and check on Kyle. It couldn't have been easy talking about any of this, and if Tamara was this shaken up by it, then God knows how Kyle was feeling about things! He patted her on the knee and said, "I'm gonna go check on him."

She nodded her head at him sadly as he got up to go and said, "Go easy, Heath! He's not in a good way."

He walked out into the garden and immediately spotted Kyle on the decking with his guitar in his hands, quietly strumming at it, and staring into space. He walked over to him with a pack of beers in his hand, and sat down beside him, offering him one of the bottles.

"You okay?" he asked, taking a sip from his own bottle of beer and glancing at him sideways.

Kyle took the bottle from him and set it down on the decking beside him. "mmm-hmm" he murmured, as he continued to strum at the guitar. There was a small bird hopping about, in a way that seemed like it was taunting him, and he was quietly seething inside just looking at it. He began to laugh quietly, shaking his head at himself a little incredulously. He was fully aware of how ridiculous it was to be angry with a little bird that had done nothing wrong. He knew that it was irrational but he couldn't help how he felt.

"Tam said the interview went ok?" ventured Heath, not sure whether to push it with him. It didn't seem like he really wanted to talk. "What were the detectives like?"

He wasn't sure how to answer that. Had the interview gone well? He supposed that it had. He'd answered all their questions (somehow). It had made him feel sick to his stomach and he'd had to fight the urge to get up and run to the bathroom to vomit. He'd been shaking so badly, and his voice had been so choked, that he wasn't even sure that they'd be able to make him out some of the time.

Talking about it in such detail had transported him back there, bringing back all the sensory memories of that dark and scary world that he'd lived in, and the bright and startling one upstairs that had been even worse. He'd almost been able to smell that house again, with its dank basement, so full of damp and rotting wood, and rank with human waste. He'd stared into that camera lens and thought about all the other times he'd been forced to 'perform' for the cameras. He wondered how many people had seen those films. Were there people walking about that he might have talked to, or even served a pizza to, that had seen him in those films? Had they bought a piece of his tortured childhood and used it for their own private pleasure? Had they recognised him?

The detectives, Drazic and Davis, had been kind and had done their best to put him at his ease, even making little jokes as the camera was being set up, but it hadn't really helped. Detective Drazic had explained that they were a specialised unit that dealt with extreme cases of child sexual abuse so nothing that he could say would shock them. From the looks of pity on their faces, he'd guessed that they must have seen the videos and photos seized from the property, and he couldn't help feeling a deep sense of humiliation, like being stripped naked all over again. To know that they'd seen him used like that?! It made him feel like the most pathetic thing on the face of the planet, and all he'd wanted was for the ground to open up and swallow him.

He'd seen the expression on Tamara's face too, as she'd sat facing him behind the camera, and he'd recognised that look of pity and disgust in her eyes. It was exactly what he had wanted to avoid all these years, and why he'd never told her about his past. She'd insisted on staying for the interview, and he hadn't been strong enough to refuse, but now he wished with all his heart that he had. How was she ever going to look at him the same way?!

He looked at Heath and gave a heavy sigh, "It went as well as it could have." He picked up his beer and took a long gulp before placing it back on the decking beside him. "The detectives were kind… sympathetic…" he said, picking at the guitar strings again with a faraway look, "…patronising,"

"Mate, that must have been so hard" said Heath. He tried to give him a little pat on the shoulder but it just made him flinch. He pretended not to notice, "…But they're gonna try to find your family… right?"

"Yeah" said Kyle, sounding thoroughly depressed, "I suppose so."

After talking about all that stuff, he wasn't sure that any family would want to claim him, not when they found out some of the things he'd had to do. It had stirred up so many memories of things that he'd done his best to forget over the years, pushing them to the far recesses of his mind, and blocking them out. Now they were back, and he could see things right in front of his eyes as though he was back in that house, and back to being that scared little boy. He felt disgusted with himself and was desperately fighting the urge to go and scrub his skin off with a wire brush. Even the beer tasted sour and tainted.

"Well… That's good, isn't it?" asked Heath. He couldn't help wondering if they'd just taken a massive step backwards in allowing this interview to go ahead. Kyle seemed to be back to one word answers, which was sad, given how far they'd come in the last week. Phoebe's betrayal hadn't helped either. He'd been pretty monosyllabic when he'd come home from her house last night, and he'd bitten everyone's heads off. It just seemed like something had broken inside.

Kyle gave an exasperated sigh and turned to face him. "What do you want to know, Heath?!"

"Mate… I just…" stammered Heath. He was pretty sure that this was headed towards a meltdown now, but maybe it was just what Kyle needed? Maybe he needed to blow up? Maybe he needed to lash out at someone? Heath looked at his little brother, who was clearly doing his best to hold his anger at bay, and decided that he was more than willing to be his punching bag if that's what he needed. "I just want you to know that…"

"What?!" snapped Kyle, his whole body tense, his voice strange and tight, "What do you want to know?! …You want me to tell you too?! You want to know what they did?!"

He gave a grunt of frustration and threw his guitar down onto the grass in front of them. It made a loud clanging noise. He started staring again at the little bird as it happily flitted about the garden. He wanted to grab it and break its neck. The anger was just building and building in his chest. An intense squeezing pain around his heart. He was fighting hard to breathe.

"Mate" said Heath, "I'm not…"

"You want to know what they did?!" he repeated, his voice breaking into a strangled sob. He brought his hands up to cover his mouth and nose and began to rock back and forth a little. Heath looked at him in shock. The tears had just erupted so violently. They were streaming down his face and he was taking in short shuddery breaths as he began to shake too.

"They raped me…" he almost whimpered, his voice a little muffled behind his hands, "Over and over… for _years_!... It happened every weekend. So many times… I can't even count."

"Oh, God!" groaned Heath.

"There are films out there…" he continued, "They filmed it, Heath… You could probably get your hands on one if you knew where to look… There are probably men out there watching them right now… Maybe I've even met them?"

"Jesus! Mate, I'm so sorry!" said Heath, with eyes welling up with tears. He knew most of this already, but to hear Kyle spell it out to him so clearly, and in no uncertain terms, was truly shocking. "I don't know what to say…"

"There's nothing to say" said Kyle, as he reached out a shaky hand to pick up his beer.

He took a big slug from the bottle, and began swishing it around his mouth in a desperate attempt to wash away a taste memory that was invading his mind. He spat it out on the grass, and breathed heavily to try to quell the rising wave of nausea that had quickly followed. He glanced sideways at a pale and nervous looking Heath.

"I've been trying to forget this stuff for years…" he said, "…but it doesn't really go… not really." He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and mumbled, "Not in here, where it really counts… It's all still here… and it might as well have happened yesterday because I can't forget what it felt like… I can still feel them, Heath… I can feel those men on me…" He paused, eyes flicking momentarily to meet Heath's, before looking away again in shame. "I can feel them…" he said, in a small broken voice, " _inside_ me."

"Mate…" said Heath, in a soft and sympathetic voice like he would use with Harley, "I'm so sorry." He was shocked to his very core. He had no idea what to say.

"It just… It hurt" he choked out through his tears, "It hurt so much...and I didn't want it. I didn't... I didn't..."

"Mate, c'mere" sighed Heath, as he reached out towards him. All he wanted to do was give him a hug and tell him that no-one could hurt him anymore. That no-one would ever hurt him again! It was all he could think of to do.

"Don't!" said Kyle, flinching back from him, "Just… don't." He pulled his arms around himself protectively.

"Okay" nodded Heath, "We'll just sit here then."

He could understand him not wanting to be touched right now but it made him feel sad to see him like that. Hugging himself like that, and rocking back and forth to 'self-soothe'. It reminded him of those news stories he'd seen as a kid; documentaries about neglected orphan children in places like Romania. Those kids had done that too. Rocked back and forth and hit their head off things. Was Kyle like those kids? Is this what he'd been like when the Summers had taken him in? Had this whole thing made him regress or something?!

The more he watched him, the more he began to wonder; had he ever had a family? Had he ever had someone just hold him without wanting more? Someone to keep him safe? Had anyone _ever_ just offered that simple comfort that all children needed?

He suspected probably not.

His own parents hadn't been worth a damn, but at least he'd had Brax. He hadn't had to be alone. He suddenly felt very lucky.

After a while, Kyle picked up his beer bottle and washed his mouth out again, and then again, until the bottle was empty. He'd calmed down again, but he wasn't in the mood for a chat, so they just sat there in silence for what seemed like forever.

Nearly an hour went by as they made their way through the beers...

"They want to talk to you" said Kyle, suddenly breaking the silence and taking Detective Drazic's card out of his pocket. He set it down and slid it across the decking towards Heath. "It's about Kyle's funeral… You're the only living relative… as far as they know…"

Heath looked down at the card and then back up at Kyle as he stared into the distance across the garden. It was a really weird thing for him to say 'Kyle's funeral' so casually. It sent shivers down his spine. He suddenly felt very guilty, that with everything going on with this 'Kyle', he'd hardly given the other Kyle a second thought. This poor little boy had been his flesh and blood, and he'd been murdered and left to rot in a back garden with all the other victims. He wondered what the real Kyle would have been like and suddenly felt very sad that he'd never have the chance to meet him. Kyle's funeral? This was all so complicated.

"Guys!" shouted Tamara, suddenly appearing at the back door with a shocked expression on her face. "Guys! You have to come in! It's on the TV! They've caught the Hames'!"

 **ii.**

Kyle got off the phone with Detective Wainwright and flopped down on the couch beside Tamara, blowing out a big breath, and staring off into the distance. Tamara reached for his hand and said, "Well? Baby? What did he say?!"

Kyle shrugged, "Wainwright said that they've been taken into custody and that he'll let me know if there are any further developments."

"That's all?!" asked Heath.

He was sitting perched on the arm of the couch beside Tamara and looking at him with concern. Kyle seemed to have gone all 'spaced out' again since seeing the Hames on the TV screen earlier. He seemed quiet and distant, more so than normal, and his face had taken on a vacant expression that was a little unnerving and mask-like.

"Yep… That's all" said Kyle, getting up and walking out to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

Tamara and Heath glanced at each other, sharing a mutual concern, and then turned to look at Kyle out in the kitchen. Neither of them were sure of what to make of it.

"I think we should go get some pizza" said Kyle, suddenly turning to face them both. "Heath, why don't you give Bianca a call and tell her to meet us at Angelo's in an hour?" He walked past them both, as they stared at him in surprise, and headed for the bedroom. "I'm gonna have a shower!" he shouted back at them, as he disappeared.

"What? What just happened?!" asked Tamara, looking at Heath in confusion. "Pizza?! He wants pizza?! Right now?!"

"I think he might just be in shock, Tam" he said, staring at the doorway to the hall.

He could hear the water in the shower starting, and shook his head a little, wondering what to do for the best. If Kyle really just wanted a bit of normality, that might not be such a bad thing, but how normal would a trip to Angelo's be tonight when everyone would be talking about the Hames' arrest?! Kyle would be a hot topic of conversation, and all eyes would be on him, without a doubt. He just didn't think that Kyle was ready for that kind of attention.

He turned to Tamara, "We can't let him do this… not tonight!"

"How are you gonna stop him?" she asked, looking a little panicked, "You know how stubborn he is!"

"I'll say that Harley has a fever or something… and maybe we could just order some pizza in" said Heath, taking his phone out to call Bianca.

 **iii.**

Kyle stood in the shower with his eyes closed, trying to drown out the hushed conspiratorial voices that he could hear out in the living-room, and trying even harder to silence ' _that_ ' voice in his own head. The one that told him just how pathetic and worthless and disgusting he really was.

He picked up the sponge and began to scrub at his skin, frantically trying to wash away that feeling of revulsion he had for his own body, and rubbing his skin raw. He could feel hands pawing roughly at his naked flesh, slipping and sliding all over him, and fingers jabbing roughly in places that hurt. He could feel it like it was happening right now. Ghosts of all too familiar sensations that had made up most of his childhood. He knew it was a flashback, and that it wasn't real, but he couldn't stand it! He needed to get them off him and to stop them touching him. He needed it all to stop!

He scrubbed and he scrubbed. He hadn't done this since he'd been a teenager, but old habits were beginning to resurface, and he couldn't stop himself. 'Excessive-cleansing' they'd called it. David and Jenny had spent a lot of time taking him back and forth to see a counsellor in his teens, and he'd eventually stopped, but things were getting too much for him now and he needed this. He needed to escape from his own memories, from the sensations taking over his own mind. He needed a way out. A release.

He remembered how roughly Jessica had always scrubbed him down before giving him to those men. She'd leave his skin red and raw, with deep scratches everywhere, sometimes even bleeding. Those few minutes between getting out of the shower, and finding himself in a room with some strange man, were the only time that he'd ever felt vaguely clean. He'd spent years trying to recreate that feeling. To feel like he had some control… of _something_.

But it was more than that. He'd wanted to wash himself away. To simply scrub himself out of existence. He'd scrub and scrub until he'd bleed; rubbed raw both inside and out.

David and Jenny had realised eventually. They'd found bloodied clothing, and jumped to all the wrong conclusions, but once they'd figured out the problem, they'd made sure to get him some help. Even so, it had been a long road to recovery.

He glanced across at himself now in the mirror, slightly fogged up with steam, and all he could see was that filthy little boy he'd once been. Dirty and disgusting, and used. He wanted to scrub every inch of his skin off, so there was nothing left, and maybe then he might feel a little better. Maybe…

' _You're filthy!_ ' hissed a voice inside his head, _'Just look at you… Do you even know how many men have had you?!'_

He looked down at the sponge in his hand and realised that it wasn't going to do the job. It was far too soft. What he needed was one of those yellow sponges that they used for cleaning, with the green abrasive wire wool side to it. He wondered if there was a clean one under the sink.

He turned off the shower and stepped out. He began rummaging among the cleaning materials under the sink, until he found a packet of clean sponges, exactly the ones he'd been thinking of. He felt a surge of relief as he held one in his hand, and smiled a little to himself as he ran his fingers over the abrasive green side of the sponge. It was very rough. It was going to hurt. Good! He went to close the cupboard door but then his eyes fell on a yellow bottle of bleach. He gave a little nod and smiled as he grabbed it too. This would make him feel better, he told himself, this would make him feel 'cleaner'. At least for a while.

But as he stood up, he accidentally made eye contact with himself, and froze. There was a sad looking man with a bottle of bleach and a wire wool sponge in his hand staring back at him. Was he really about to self-harm for the first time in nearly ten years?! What would his counsellor think?!

"What are you doing?!" he asked himself out loud.

After a moment, he threw the sponge back under the sink, and set the bottle of bleach back onto the shelf.

"Fuck!" he hissed at himself, as he closed the door, "Get it together!"

His hands were shaking violently as he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. He slid down the wall to sit on the floor and brought his knees up to his chest. He clenched his fists in anger when he felt the first wave of tears rip through him, but he couldn't stop. "Fuck!" he growled at himself again as he punched himself in the thigh. Why was he always crying?! Why couldn't he hold it together?! Why did he always have to be so weak?!

"Tam!" he shouted. He knew he needed help, "Tam! Can you come in here, please?!"

 **iv.**

"They said they'll be here tomorrow!" said Tamara, giving him a big smile, and sitting down in his lap on the armchair. "They sounded so excited, babe!" she said, leaning in for a kiss. Tamara had been on the phone for nearly half an hour and Kyle had begun to wonder if she was ever coming back.

"Tomorrow?!" he said, almost choking on the word and looking at her in shock. "They're coming tomorrow?!"

"Is that okay?" she asked, suddenly a little worried that she'd made a mistake. He'd asked her to phone them and invite them to come visit, and when they'd said that they could come tomorrow, she'd thought that he'd be pleased. The sooner the better had been her thinking, just in case he changed his mind again.

"I guess so" he said, shifting a little uncomfortably in the seat, and looking out the window.

He was incredibly nervous at the prospect of seeing the Summers again and really didn't know what he was going to say. Tamara had talked him into it last night when she'd found him in the bathroom like that. He'd told her about his history of self-harm and how much the Summers had helped him. It had been the push that he'd needed, making him see how much he needed people like them in his life right now, and he'd agreed to let Tamara call them in the morning and invite them.

He needed people that he could trust around him. Phoebe's betrayal was still weighing heavily on his mind, and it had made him appreciate the care that the Summers had shown him over those difficult years, even more than he had before. But now that he knew that they were actually coming, he wasn't sure that he could face them again.

His heart was thumping in his chest just thinking about seeing David and Jenny, and having to talk to them about all this stuff with the Hames case. He'd managed to live with them for more than four years without telling them very much at all. But now it had all been brought out into the open, and laid bare for all to see, he was sure that they'd want to talk about it with him. They were 'talk about your feelings' kind of people but the thought of having to say those words to them just terrified him.

He held their letter in his hand and ran his thumb over their signatures at the bottom.

"Tomorrow's good" he said, nodding for his own benefit and turning to give Tamara a kiss on the forehead.

He looked at his wife as she sat in his lap, gazing at him with her big brown eyes, so full of love and kindness, and he thought how lucky he was to have this beautiful woman in his life, and so willing to fight his corner. With her by his side, he could face just about anything.

He leaned his head against hers and whispered, "They're going to love you, you know."


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's note: Thank you so much FrankElza for the amazing review! You made my day! I really hope you like this one! xxx**

 **Chapter 23**

 **i.**

"It'll be okay, babe!" said Tamara, leaning down and planting a kiss on his forehead. "Just distract them with Noah if you get nervous!" she said, giggling and gently stroking the top of Noah's head as Kyle bounced him on his knee.

"Oh yeah! …Never thought of that!" he said in a sarcastic tone, as he rolled his eyes and shook his head at her. He couldn't help but laugh though, even if his stomach was doing somersaults and his heart was racing a little. Tamara could always make him laugh, and he loved her for it. He looked down at Noah's chubby little face as he chewed on his own fist, and he pulled a funny face at him. "They're gonna love you, little man!" he said, smiling from ear to ear. "But then… who wouldn't?!"

Tamara spun back round to look at the dining table, taking in the mountains of food set out on platters, and the floral display in the middle of the table. Bianca had gotten a little carried away with the pastries and sandwiches. She shook her head a little and put her hands on her hips.

"Do you think we have enough?" she asked, glancing back over her shoulder at Kyle with a mischievous grin on her face. "I mean… I wouldn't want anyone to go hungry!"

Kyle snorted at her, throwing her a smirk, and lifting Noah up into the air high above him, "I think we have enough to feed an army, don't we Noah?! Uncle Heath and Auntie Bianca went a little bit nuts didn't they? …Yes, that's right… Yes, they did!"

Noah gurgled at him in reply.

"It was really nice of them!" said Tamara, smiling at him and sitting down on the arm of the couch. "Heath is so nervous and excited for you, y'know…" she said, stroking Kyle's hair gently as she looked at him. "I can't believe he cleaned this whole place this morning! I mean… Have you ever seen Heath clean before?! I didn't think he even knew what a mop looked like!" She could see how surprised Kyle looked, as he gazed around the room, and they both began to giggle a little. "He was pretty embarrassed… like I'd caught him wearing Bianca's stilettos or something!"

Kyle laughed at that mental image, imagining Heath stilting around in Bianca's ridiculously high heels and brandishing a mop. He lifted Noah up again so he could kiss him on cheek.

"Uncle Heath can a big softie sometimes, can't he?" he said to Noah, throwing Tamara a wink, and then making a silly face at Noah again.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and Kyle jumped nearly a mile high, glancing at Tamara with a look that was something akin to panic. "Oh God, they're here!" he whispered, as his heart began to race. He put Noah down in his bouncer and wiped his sweaty palms frantically on the legs of his jeans. He was more nervous than he'd been in a long time, and that was certainly saying something!

"It'll be okay!" said Tamara, giving him a very quick peck on the lips, and then skipping over to the door. "Here goes!" she said, giving him a little wink as she began to turn the door handle.

Kyle thought back to the first time a door had opened with the Summers standing on the other side of it. Memories of that day flashed through his mind, as though he was back there, and he marvelled at how differently he felt about them now…

 _(Flashback)_

 _Kyle stood on the doorstep beside Miss Blenheim, staring at the ground, and digging his teeth into the flesh of his tongue as a reminder to himself that he wasn't to talk. The red door swung open, and a tidy looking woman with red wavy hair and bright green eyes, looked down at him. Suddenly there was a pair of arms around his little body, pulling him in tight, and a high-pitched squeal of excitement right beside his ear._

 _"Oh, Kyle, we're so pleased to have you here!" she chirped, rocking him from side to side, as every muscle in his body went as stiff as a board._

 _He knew where hugs like this inevitably led, and he wasn't looking forward to it. He was tired, and scared, and he didn't know what these people wanted of him._

 _The red-haired woman took his hand and led him into the living-room, nodding with her head for him to sit down on the shabby chic brown leather sofa._

 _He sat down and stared miserably at his shoes. They were far too small for him and cruelly crushing his toes. He'd never really worn shoes before he'd left the Hames' house, and these ones really hurt his feet, but he was so unfamiliar with footwear that he didn't know that they weren't supposed to. A lot of things in his life had really hurt. Discomfort was just a part of life, and pain was something that you had to get used to. That was just the way life was… wasn't it?_

 _He flinched when a man appeared beside him and recoiled a little when a hand was stuck out towards him._

 _"So, this is Kyle?!" said the man with brown Doc Martin boots._

 _Kyle still hadn't looked up at him, but he took the man's hand, and let him give him a big hearty handshake. He didn't want to look at him. He didn't want to look in those eyes and see that same lascivious and predatory gaze he'd seen in all the other men's eyes over the years. It was always there, even when they tried to hide it. In the end, all men were the same. They all just wanted the same thing._

 _"I'm David" said the man, hunkering down to his level._

 _Kyle didn't respond in any way. What did he care if his name was David? Did he think they were going to be friends?!_

" _Hey?" said David, as a hand reached out and gently lifted his chin. "I'm not gonna bite" he chuckled._

' _Great! He's one of 'those' ones' he thought to himself wearily, 'He's one of those sickos who wants eye contact and probably makes you look at him while it's happening.' He hated that type._

" _There you are!" said David, as Kyle's eyes flicked up towards his._

 _David had big blue eyes hidden behind thick framed glasses. He had very dark hair that was going a bit grey at the temples, and a full beard that was a mixture of grey and black, with a little bit of red as well. He gave Kyle a little wink and a smile._

 _"That's my wife, Jenny..." he said, pointing at the red-haired woman, "And we're both really happy that you're here, Kyle!"_

 _'That name again!' he thought to himself, frowning and wondering where it had suddenly come from. He didn't really care what they called him though, as long as they didn't hurt him too much. He was so scared! At least he'd known what to expect in the other house and what the rules were. Here, anything could happen!_

 _David got up and sat on the couch beside him, pretending not to notice when he inched away from him._

 _As the adults began to talk among themselves, he glanced at David, and then quickly at Jenny. He was trying to gauge what type of people they were. Jenny was all nerves and smiles and she was talking with her hands in an excited way to that woman, Miss Blenheim. David kept looking over at him and giving him little smiles that were making him feel very uneasy._

 _All this over-excitement didn't sit well with him. When adults acted like that, it usually meant that things would get scary very quickly. There might even be some of that horrible burny powder involved. He hated that stuff! It always gave him nosebleeds, and it made his heart feel funny, and he'd usually end up getting sick everywhere. They always seemed to find that really funny._

 _He glanced quickly around the room when they weren't looking, but froze completely when he saw the tripod with a camera on it. His heart began to really thump, as memories of the last time he'd been in front of a camera flashed through his mind. That was one of the worst nights of his whole life! Bile began to rise in his throat at the thought of it, and he had to clamp his eyes shut and swallow hard to stop from being sick. How long would it be before this 'David' wanted to use that camera?! How long before he decided to make some 'home movies' of his own?! Why did it always have to be like this?! He began to shake._

" _Okay slugger!" said David, placing his hand on his shoulder, with a sad little smile when he jumped, "Why don't you come with me and I'll show you to your room" He picked up the boy's small backpack and motioned with his head for him to follow him._

 _Kyle gave a little sigh of resignation and got up to follow. There was no point in fighting or saying no. He'd learnt that the hard way! His legs were shaking as he took his first steps but he did his best to hide it. He didn't like to show that he was afraid. A lot of men seemed to get off on that, and he wasn't going to give them the satisfaction._

 _He followed behind, just like the many journeys he'd made up those stairs over the years. It was always the same. Walking into the unknown, with no idea of what lay ahead, and no say in what happened to him when he got there. He glared at the back of David's head, silently seething inside, as he trailed behind with an ever-growing sense of dread._

 _None of this stuff ever got any easier, no matter how many times it happened. But this had been happening for as long as he could remember and it wasn't like he'd ever had a choice. Just like he didn't have a choice now. He just wanted it to be over._

 _He began to picture a place that was yellow and bright, with little plastic buckets shaped like castles, and a red plastic spade. It was the place that he'd often try to escape to in his head when things got to be too much. He didn't know where it was, or even if he'd ever really been there, but it felt like somewhere safe and full of hope. He'd imagine himself filling one of the buckets full of that white grainy stuff, scoop by scoop, and he'd try to concentrate on getting it filled to the top. If he could keep that in his mind, and hold it there for long enough, then he could sometimes block out what was happening. He would simply leave his body sometimes, escaping the terrible world that he lived in, in favour of that simple scene. It was warm there and he had a sense that it was somewhere that he belonged. But something would always bring him crashing back and he'd feel all the worse for his sickening return to reality. Sometimes he wished that he could just die._

 _David led him over to the bed and sat down, patting the mattress in an inviting way, and motioning with his head for him to join him. Kyle breathed out, bracing himself for whatever was coming next, and took the space on the bed beside him. Bedrooms and beds only meant one thing. He stared at his scruffy old shoes again and waited._

 _"Do you like your new room, Kyle?" asked David, gazing around at the posters they'd put up to make it look more like a boy's bedroom. When Kyle didn't respond, he looked back at him for an answer. "I mean, we can change it if you don't like it?"_

 _Kyle continued to stare at his shoes, wondering when this man was going to stop babbling and get on with what he'd brought him here for. He hated the ones that tried to talk to him, making pointless chit chat and asking him stupid questions, as though they cared about the answers. He hated them more than the ones who treated him like a piece of meat. Like something to be used and thrown away. At least they were honest! They didn't hide the fact that they were monsters. Or feign concern when they didn't really care how much they hurt him. It was the ones who wanted to pretend they were friends. They were the ones who really got to him. The ones who brought him sweets and told him about their own children. It made what came next so much worse!_

 _"There's a closet over there for all your clothes" said David, faltering a little as he picked up Kyle's backpack again, and set it on the bed. All there was in it was a sweater, a spare t-shirt, and a couple of pairs of underpants. He certainly wouldn't need a whole closet for those!_

 _David looked at him with big soft eyes, and placed his hand on his knee. Kyle couldn't help flinching. He was certain that worse was still to come and he was just waiting for that hand to start creeping up his leg._

" _I know it must be really scary coming to live with total strangers..." said David, "But me and Jenny, we're not so bad when you get to know us... And we'd really like to be friends with you, if you'll let us. I think you'll like it here." Kyle didn't answer him and continued to stare at his shoes, so David slowly got up, tentatively patting him on the shoulder. "Well" he said, "I'll leave you to settle in then, Kyle. Maybe you want to unpack... And have a little look around your new room..."_

 _Kyle watched him leave, relieved that 'that' hadn't happened yet. He knew it would though. 'It' would probably happen later, when the social worker was gone. A little shiver ran through him at the thought of it. What if this guy was one of the really twisted ones who just looked normal? He'd met a few of those in his time._

 _He hugged his arms around his knees and peered around the room. It didn't look like the rooms in the Hames' house. This room had movie posters on the walls, the windows didn't have bars on the inside, and the sheets he was sitting on were clean, and ironed, and they smelled nice. Everything about this house seemed different. The Summers seemed different… but then again, he'd seen that camera out in the living-room…_

' _Don't get your hopes up!' he told himself bitterly._

 _He looked down at the ground trying to picture what their basement looked like. He knew they'd probably make him sleep down there when that Miss Blenheim left. They were only pretending that this was his room. He knew that. All he could hope for was that his cell would be a little bit warmer this time, and maybe tall enough for him to stand up in. He wasn't asking a lot. He hoped there might be some other kids down there too. He was lonely. He banged his foot on the floor and listened for a reply…_

 _(End Flashback)_

Kyle stood there beside the couch, feeling hardly able to breathe, and watched as Tamara pulled the door open. There, in front of him now, were the only kind and gentle adults that he'd ever known as a child. The first good people that he'd ever met. David and Jenny, standing on his doorstep, and smiling at him in that kind and innocent way that he remembered!

He looked at Jenny, with her green eyes already welling up with tears, and the soft and gentle expression on David's face, and he felt a pain in his chest like his heart might physically tear in two. He was shaking already, and when he went to speak, the words just wouldn't come.

"Uh… uh" he stammered, forgetting everything that he'd planned to say to them.

"Oh sweetheart!" exclaimed Jenny, looking past Tamara at the young man standing in the middle of the living room. "We've missed you so much!"

Kyle took a few faltering steps towards them, and managed to say, "I'm so sorry!" Tears began to roll down his cheeks. He looked at David with a shamed expression on his face and hung his head. "I'm so sorry" he said again, with his voice a little choked by the tears.

David moved past his wife, going straight to Kyle and took him by his shoulders. He lowered his head a little to look him in the eye.

"You have nothing to be sorry for! Do you hear me?" he said, nodding at him for emphasis. "I'm the one who should be sorry." With that, he put his arms around him and pulled him into a hug, with his hand cradling the back of his foster-son's head. "We love you" he said, motioning with one arm for his wife to join them. "We both love you, so much."

Jenny rushed across the room and David pulled back a little to let her join in the hug. Suddenly he had both parents hugging him tight, as Tamara watched on a little surprised. She hadn't expected things to go so well, so quickly.

"You have no idea how much we've missed you." said David, "We're not going to let you out of our sight ever again."

After a moment or two, Kyle pulled away from the hug and wiped at his tears in an embarrassed sort of way. He looked across the room to Tamara and held his hand out to her.

"This is Tam" he said.

She walked over and took his hand and he pulled her to him, putting his arm around her waist, so they were both facing Jenny and David.

"This is my wife, Tamara" he said smiling proudly.

"I've never been so pleased to meet anyone!" said David, smiling from ear to ear. "You have no idea how much that phone call yesterday meant to us" he said, reaching out to her to give her a hug.

Kyle smiled to himself, a little sadly, thinking how much of a hugger David was, and how much that had scared him when he'd first gone to live with them. It had taken a long time for him to understand that all David wanted from him was a hug.

"I think we're going to be good friends" said Jenny, giving Tamara a hug too, and smiling at Kyle with eyes still wet with tears. "She's just beautiful!" she said, giving Kyle a little wink. She pulled away and looked over at the bouncer as Noah gurgled and kicked his little legs, "Oh my god, he's absolutely gorgeous!" she exclaimed, looking back at Kyle with a huge smile on her face. "Can I?" she asked, tilting her head at him, and then at Tamara.

"Of course!" said Tamara, motioning for Jenny to sit down on the couch.

Kyle went over to the bouncer and lifted Noah out, before placing him gently in Jenny's arms.

"This is your grandson" he said, feeling a surge of love for this woman in front of him, the only real 'mother' he'd ever had. "This is Noah" he said, suddenly feeling incredibly proud.

Jenny took Noah in her arms and smiled down at his dimpled little cheeks and big brown eyes.

"He's just beautiful!" she said, looking back and forth between Kyle and the baby. "Gosh, he looks just like his daddy, doesn't he?!" she said, turning him round on her knee to show David, who was watching from the nearby armchair.

Kyle sat perched on the arm of the couch and felt his chest swell with pride. Noah did look like him, but he had Tamara's eyes.

"He's a beautiful baby" said David, nodding in agreement and looking at Kyle with a big smile. "You've got a lovely little family here." he said, leaning over and letting Noah grip his finger with his chubby little hand.

Kyle nodded, thinking about how far he'd come. Despite everything that was going on, he did have a lot to be thankful for. He had a beautiful supportive wife, and a gorgeous little baby boy... and now he even had two loving parents! And that was before he took into account the support that Heath and Bianca had shown him since all of this had blown up in his face.

Maybe he would get through all this stuff with the Hames' after all?

 **ii.**

Heath looked up from setting one of the tables in Angelo's, ready for a large birthday party booking, due to arrive in half an hour. Twenty screaming teenage girls was the last thing he needed today! He was so nervous for Kyle, and couldn't stop his mind from drifting back to the house, and wondering what was going on there. He hoped that things were going well. He didn't think that Kyle was strong enough for any more disappointment.

He looked over at the door, and spotted Phoebe as she rushed in, tying her black apron round her waist.

"What do you think you're doing here?!" he asked, meeting Phoebe at the doorway. He was surprised to see her wearing her work uniform. "You can't seriously think that you still have a job here, can you?!"

She looked up at him with a look of shock on her face. "But… but… I…" she stammered, blanching a little white in the face.

"But nothing!" he said, taking her by the elbow and turning her back towards the door. "You've really hurt Kyle …worse than you can imagine" he growled in her ear, as he dragged her out of the restaurant, "…but that wasn't enough for you, was it?!"

"I wasn't really going to…" she said, dragging her feet and trying to turn to face him. She managed to yank her arm away from him, and turned to look at him, giving him a pleading look. "I wouldn't do that! You have to believe me! …Please, Heath, I need this job!"

"You should have thought of that before!" said Heath, amazed at the cheek of the girl. She just didn't seem to see the damage and hurt that she'd caused, or even seem particularly apologetic.

"I didn't mean to hurt Kyle!" she said, interrupting him and shaking her head at him. "I didn't know what was on that laptop, Heath! You have to believe me! I didn't know!"

"You threatened Brax!" he snarled in her ear, pulling in close to make sure that no-one else would hear. "You threatened Ric and Casey! How could you do that?!"

She hung her head and her face blushed up bright red. "I wasn't really going to…" she said, "I just wanted to…"

"You just wanted to twist the knife!" he snapped, grabbing her arm again to move her towards the door. "You can't work here, Phoebe! …Ash works here, Kyle works here… This is Kyle's restaurant! What part of this did you think would be okay?!"

"But I lost my job at the school!" she whined at him, as she stood at the top of the stairs. "I'm gonna have a criminal record because of the laptop …so they won't let me teach!" she said, looking at him all wide-eyed and scared. "I have to work _somewhere_ , Heath! You can't just fire me!"

He looked at her in surprise and disgust. "You expect Kyle to keep you on here …after what you did?!" He wondered how she could be so brass-necked as to swan in here and expect to keep working, side by side with Ash and Kyle, after treating them both so badly. He had to hand it to the girl, she had guts! "I don't care where you work, Pheebs, but it won't be here!" he said, giving her a little push towards the stairs. "I think we'd have pretty fair grounds for dismissal, don't you?!"

"I have nothing left, Heath! I need this job!" she whinged. "Ash and Kat made me move out! I have nothing, Heath! Nothing!" she said, as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"You expect me to feel sorry for you?!" asked Heath, standing with his arms crossed and shaking his head at her a little incredulously.

She stared at him, seemingly lost for words for the first time ever, and shrugged her shoulders. "I'm sorry, okay?" she said, hanging her head and biting her bottom lip.

"No, not okay!" said Heath. "Not okay, Phoebe… Not even remotely okay… I think you should go now, don't you?"

She nodded and began to walk down the stairs and he breathed a sigh of relief that she was finally going. But suddenly she turned around to face him, about five steps down, and glared back up at him.

"I could still do it, you know!" she spat at him bitterly. "I could still drop that precious brother of yours in it!"

"There she is!" he exclaimed in a theatrical manner, slow clapping at her, as he stared down at her in the stairwell. "That's the real Phoebe Nicholson! Take a bow! The ice queen lives!" He shook his head at her a little despairingly and said, "You do what you want to do, Pheebs! …Tell the whole world if you want to! …But when you're lying in your bed at night… all alone… without a friend in the world… I just hope you think it was worth it!"

She opened her mouth again as though to speak, but something in her expression suddenly changed, and her whole body just slumped. With a defeated sigh and her head hanging low, she turned and walked away down the stairs. Heath watched her go and thought about the fact that Brax had never really liked her. Maybe Brax had been a better judge of character than he'd given him credit for? He just hoped that she wouldn't follow through on her threats.

Heath turned, walking back to the bar across the restaurant, and pulled out one of the stools to sit down on. He reached over the bar, lifting a bottle of whiskey and a glass, and poured himself a shot. He was tired and feeling very stressed, and he thought that he could do with a drink to calm his nerves. Phoebe had made him angry and more than a little depressed. This whole thing with Kyle was so complicated and it just felt like they were all on a constant rollercoaster. Kyle seemed to take one step forwards, and two steps back on a day to day basis, and they all spent their time walking on eggshells around him. It was exhausting! And now he had even more things to worry about!

He lifted his glass and threw the whiskey back in one gulp. As he set the glass back on the bar, he saw Ash walk in, and gave him a little nod. He pulled Detective Drazic's card out of his pocket and looked at it again a little sadly.

"Hey" said Heath, as Ash slid onto the stool beside him, "Run into Phoebe on your way in?"

"Yeah" said Ash, sounding a bit depressed and leaning his elbow on the bar with his head on his hand. "She said you fired her…"

"She can't work here… not after…" he said, trailing off, as he looked at the card in his hand.

He didn't know how he was going to broach the subject of the funeral with Kyle. Burying the real Kyle here in Summer Bay seemed like the right thing to do, so he could be buried beside Casey and little Rocco, but he knew that it was going to be incredibly hard for the 'Kyle' that was still alive. The Detectives had arranged for his body, or what was left of it, to be sent to the Bay, to one of those funeral homes, and the plan was for them to hold a small private funeral on Tuesday. He didn't know if 'Kyle' would want to be there or not, or if burying someone with his own name would just be too weird. He couldn't keep it a secret from him either though.

Brax seemed to have gone to ground, and he and Ash hadn't managed to get in touch with him yet, so he still didn't know about the real Kyle. Heath was having to make all of the decisions on his own, and that wasn't something that came naturally, or that he found particularly easy. He felt like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Mate, you okay?" asked Ash, after a moment's silence, as he eyed the card in Heath's hand. "Is that the Detective that's dealing with Kyle's case?"

Heath nodded and put the card back in his pocket. He reached for another glass behind the bar and poured two glasses of whiskey, one for himself and one for Ash, and pushed Ash's glass towards him. He lifted his glass to his lips and shook his head, staring off into the distance.

He gave a heavy sigh. "How do you tell your brother that you're burying the real 'him' on Tuesday?!"


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's note: Again, thank you sooo so much to FrankElza, for your lovely comments. They're such a pleasure to read and spur me on to continue writing this. Also, a big thank you to Braxtonboyzz123 for your reviews! I'm really glad you're enjoying it! You have no idea how much I appreciate both your feedback! Hope you like this chapter**

 **(N.B. When I wrote this, VJ wasn't the responsible and loving father that he eventually becomes, he was a bit childish and selfish. This is that version of him. I love the man that he became, not so much the teenager that he was!)**

 **xox**

 **Chapter 24**

"So, you got on well then?" asked Bianca, holding Harley on her knee and letting him throw himself backwards while holding onto her hands. It was a game that he'd only recently discovered and he wanted to do it all the time now.

"Yeah" said Kyle, with a half-smile as he stared off into space. "They were amazing, actually" he said, looking slightly dazed, and as though he couldn't quite believe it himself.

"Where are they staying?" asked Heath, giving Tamara a relieved smile. "They're not at the caravan park, are they?"

"No, they're at the Sands" said Tamara, sitting in Kyle's lap with one arm thrown around his neck. "They're coming back for lunch tomorrow if you want to meet them. I think they'd really like to meet you." she said, looking back and forth between Heath and Bianca. "They know how much you mean to both of us, so they'd like to get to know you."

Kyle looked up suddenly, as though he'd just registered what they were talking about, and said, "I want to give them a tour of the Bay. I want them to see everything… where I live… where I work… I want everyone to meet them!"

He suddenly seemed a little too excited, with a slightly manic expression, and it was making Heath a bit uneasy. Everything was so up and down with Kyle at the moment, and it was very confusing.

"I want to take them to Angelo's for lunch" he continued, "…and show them the gym, and maybe take Noah and Harley to the beach as well!" He kept looking excitedly, back and forth at the three worried faces staring at him.

"Mate?" said Heath, finding it hard to hide his concern, "Are you sure that's such a good idea? …I mean, with the whole story just breaking about the Hames' arrest and stuff… People are…"

"People are… what?!" he snapped at him, "Talking about me?! So, what?! ...I'm supposed to just hide away forever!?" He sounded more than a little annoyed and defensive. "Should I just crawl back into some little black hole and sit there?! Is that what I'm supposed to do?! Don't you think those people took away my freedom for long enough?! …Nearly fourteen years, Heath! Enough is enough!"

Heath nodded his head, and looked at the floor, trying to avoid an argument. Kyle certainly had a point, but he didn't think he was ready for the level of interest that there was out there in the local community, or for the whispering and gossip-mongering that was going on. Heath had had to fend off at least three groups of customers asking thoroughly inappropriate questions today during his shift. And that was only today! There'd even been a group of teenage boys laughing and making stupid jokes about 'paedos' that he'd had to throw out of the place. People were so incredibly stupid sometimes! He didn't think that Kyle would be able to cope with that at all!

"Baby, couldn't we just have a barbecue instead?" asked Tamara, picking up on Heath's concerns. "I mean… they can see Angelo's another time. There's no rush is there?"

He glared at both Heath and Tamara, angry at what he saw as their attempts to control him, and said, "If I want to show my parents where I work… and that I'm not the _total_ disappointment that they probably thought I was… then that's _my_ choice! …Isn't it?!"

"Yeah, it is" said Heath, giving him a shrug of his shoulders and throwing Tamara a worried glance. "But… um…" he stammered, unsure of how to tell him, "…There's a lot of talking going on out there, mate… People are talking about you… and about… uh… about the abuse…"

Kyle looked away, shaking his head and clenching his jaw, as he stared off into space. "Let them talk" he said, sounding a little bitter. "I've spent enough time hiding away from the world… I'm not doing it anymore…" It seemed like he was talking more to himself than to them.

"Okay, then that's what we'll do" said Tamara, giving his hand a little squeeze and kissing him on the forehead. "If that's what you really want."

"If you're sure" said Heath, wondering if he'd be able to protect him in some way from all the petty gossiping outside. He'd do his best... He glanced at Kyle, as he sat there smiling to himself now, and clearly feeling good for the first time in a long time, and he decided to hold off on telling him about the funeral. He knew that he'd have to tell him tomorrow, but he could see that Kyle was in a good place tonight, and he didn't want to take that away from him. Not yet.

 **ii.**

Heath lifted his beer and took a swig from the bottle, glancing at Kyle, as they sat outside on the decking in the fading sunshine. He really didn't know what to do. It was Sunday night, and preparations for the funeral were going to have to start tomorrow, so he was quickly running out of time. He was going to have to tell Kyle about it, and he really wasn't looking forward to it, but he'd already put it off for too long.

Kyle was leaning back in the sunshine with his eyes closed, looked contented for the first time in weeks, and Heath really didn't want to ruin this day for him. Today had been such a fantastic day in every way. It really couldn't have gone any better! The Summers had turned out to be the kindest people that Heath had ever met, and they'd been incredibly welcoming to both him and Bianca, and made a huge fuss of all the kids. They'd all gotten on like a house on fire.

The tour of the Bay had passed without incident, and Heath had even managed to deter a group of nosy locals intent on speaking to Kyle. They'd met John and Marilyn outside Angelo's, and dealt with Chris and Irene at the diner, but they'd all been nothing but kind, so that had gone much better than he would have expected!

The Summers had seemed impressed with the restaurant and the gym, and Heath had been touched by how loving and affectionate they were with Kyle. They couldn't have seemed more proud of him, or happier for him to have done well in life. It was a strange thing; it was almost like they'd always been there. Kyle seemed so at home with them, even after all this time apart. It was as though they really were his parents.

Looking at Kyle now as he sat basking in the dying heat of the sun, it just seemed too cruel to take this day away from him… It didn't seem right to make him think about Kyle Bennett, the child that was murdered all those years ago, and whose identity he'd been living ever since. Not today… Not now... But he didn't have a choice!

He just wished that there was more time, but the funeral director was coming after lunch tomorrow to talk funeral arrangements, and the coffin would be arriving at the house on Tuesday morning. Not only that, but his mother Cheryl was arriving tomorrow evening, which would add further complication, and he still needed to talk to Josh and Evie about it. Dropping the funeral on Kyle like this was going to be the hardest part of all though. He really wasn't sure how Kyle would take it.

He took a deep breath and one last slug of his beer, and turned to face him.

"Mate?" he said, leaning over and touching him lightly on the arm to get his attention. "I uh… I need…I need to talk to you about something." he said, stammering over his words and sounding noticeably nervous.

Kyle didn't open his eyes, but gave a little sigh, "It's about Kyle's funeral isn't it?"

"Uh…" said Heath, unable to hide his surprise, "Uh… yeah… it is…"

He hadn't expected to get to this point so quickly, so the speech that he'd been running over and over in head was now redundant, and he found himself a little lost for words. Kyle saying 'Kyle's funeral' also threw him a little. He was never going to get used to that.

Kyle opened his eyes, and gave Heath a sad little smile. "It's okay, Heath." he said, shrugging his shoulders and lifting his bottle of beer to take a sip. "Kyle was your brother and I think you're doing the right thing burying him here."

"How…?" stuttered Heath, "How did… How did you know?!"

Kyle gave him a wry little smile and rolled his eyes at him. "You left all the arrangements scribbled on an envelope in the living-room…" He tilted his head at Heath in a sympathetic sort of way, "It's okay, Heath… I knew this was coming." He got to his feet and took Heath's empty bottle from him. "I'll grab us another couple of beers." he said, walking off towards the kitchen. "Back in a minute."

Heath watched him go, and wondered whether this was Kyle going into some kind of denial again, or if he was really okay with this whole thing. Heath waited for him, staring at the back door, but he seemed to be taking an incredibly long time. He began to worry.

A few minutes later, Kyle finally reappeared, letting Josh hold onto his arm as he led him out into the garden. He had three beer bottles held in one hand, and he gave Heath a little nod to make space for Josh, before leading him over and getting him to sit down.

Kyle sat back down where he'd been before, opening a beer for each of the two boys, before opening his own, and taking a big gulp.

"I think we need to sort out pallbearers…" said Kyle, with a slightly pained expression on his face. Heath could see that he was doing his best to put on a brave face but none of this was easy for him. He might be saying all the right things, and pretending that it was all okay, but the prospect of burying 'Kyle Bennett' was clearly taking its toll all the same. "I explained all of this to Josh this morning" said Kyle. "He knows the score."

Heath was shocked that Kyle was so far ahead with all of this, and that he'd even taken it upon himself to speak to Josh about it.

"You're okay with this?" asked Heath, glancing at Josh and wondering if a blind man could be a pallbearer or not. But then he figured that all he really had to do was walk in a straight line and let the others lead him. "You reckon you'll be able to do this?"

Josh nodded, looking a little nervous, "Andy said he'll help out too if you need another pair of hands."

"Okay so that's me, you, Josh, and Andy… I reckon we can ask Ash too" said Kyle, "So we just need three more…"

Heath sat with his mouth hanging open, in complete and total shock, as Kyle took charge of things. "Um… I…" he stammered again, wondering how many more times this brother of his was going to render him speechless. He tried to think of who else to ask. He was sad that Brax wouldn't be there, and that he'd be burying their little brother without Brax even knowing that he'd ever existed. This whole thing was so incredibly sad.

"What about Matt?" asked Josh, "I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

"Yeah, okay" said Kyle, "Good idea… Can you give him a call for me?"

"Yep" said Josh, looking quite pleased with himself.

"I guess we could ask Palmer" said Heath, as he glanced over at the neighbouring house, "I mean… if that's okay with you?"

Kyle just nodded and took a slug from his beer bottle. "So, we just need one more…"

"I don't know who else to ask" said Heath, thinking that there wasn't really anyone else within the close family circle that he'd want there. Then he looked at Kyle, and he thought about today, and a thought came to him. He gave him a little half-smile, "Unless… do you think David might do it?"

Kyle looked surprised for a moment, and Heath could see that he was a little unsure, but a smile slowly crept across his face. "I think so" said Kyle, nodding and looking a little relieved. "I'll give him a call in the morning" he said, thinking that having the Summers there would make this whole thing just a little easier.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" asked Heath, throwing Kyle a concerned look. "I mean… No-one would blame you if it was all a bit too much for you, mate?"

"Yeah" said Josh, nodding his head in agreement, "I can't imagine how hard this is for you."

Kyle leaned back against the wooden post behind him and breathed out a sad sigh.

"Tuesday is the end of Kyle Braxton and the start of my new life… My new identity… whatever that is. I'm going to bury Kyle on Tuesday…" he said, furrowing his brow and looking at Heath with eyes full of hurt and pain. He was struggling to put his feelings about it into words, and not doing a very good job of it. "I didn't… I didn't have a choice …I didn't… I didn't know that I was stealing Kyle's name and family… I didn't _know_ that you weren't mine… but I owe it to him now to say thank you… and to give him back his name and the family that he should have had… You're his, not mine."

"We're yours too!" said Heath, looking at him with a worried expression. "We might not be blood, but we'll always be family!"

Josh nodded in agreement and said, "We've never been related, but that doesn't stop me thinking of you all as family."

Kyle shook his head sadly and stared at his beer bottle, absently picking at the label, as he mulled things over. "I just need to make my peace with him… and tell him that I'm sorry…" He started to blink furiously, to stop from crying, as tears began to well up in his eyes.

"What do you have to be sorry about?" asked Heath, getting even more worried. Kyle's good mood from earlier was long gone now and he could see how much he was struggling with all of this.

Kyle gave a heavy sigh. "It should have been me in that grave and not him…" he said in a small quiet voice, keeping his eyes fixed on the torn label on his bottle. "I mean… He actually had family out here… He had brothers… and people who cared about him. I was just some kid that no-one wanted… just left to rot in that basement… No-one would have missed me if they'd killed me instead."

Heath looked at him wide-eyed in shock and managed to stutter a reply. "Mate… That… That's not how it is!"

"Yes, it is" said Kyle, with a quiet and distant sounding voice. "It's pretty obvious that there's no-one looking for me… All that news coverage and no-one has come forward… There's no family out there desperately looking for their long-lost son. Either I was born in that basement… probably an accident… some poor girl raped and murdered… or my parents gave me away." He glanced at the shocked expressions on both Heath and Josh's faces and began to laugh a little bitterly. "What?! …I can't be the only one that's thought it?!"

"Mate, you don't know anything for sure yet!" said Heath.

"No, but it seems less and less likely that I'm gonna get some fairy-tale ending" he said, smirking at them sarcastically. "I was probably conceived on film, for all I know! One of those special 'home movies' they loved to make, and then some poor girl probably squeezed me out on that basement floor… Maybe she even bled to death… Who knows!"

"You don't know…" Josh started to say, but Kyle interrupted him.

"No, Josh! You don't know! You don't know what that place was like!" he yelled, suddenly getting to his feet.

Josh was a little startled by the sudden movement, and shifted towards Heath, shuffling on his bum. Kyle continued his rant, standing over both Heath and Josh, and yelling in their faces.

"That place was hell on earth!" he cried, "They murdered kids in that house! They did things! Things that no little kid should ever have to see! …Things happened to me in that house that… that… Oh, God! I can't even…" He took a deep breath, as though fighting a wave of nausea. "I saw them do things…"

He covered his face with both hands and gave a loud anguished groan. He couldn't say the words out loud. He ran his tongue over his teeth and thought about the threat that Simon had made to him that day. He'd never told anyone for fear that Simon would come and get him, just like he'd promised. He hadn't even told the detectives the other day. How pathetic was that?! A grown man afraid that his childhood tormenter would come and cut his tongue out?!

He took another deep shuddering breath, and sat down again beside Josh, pulling his arms across his chest protectively. He clenched his jaw tight as he tried to calm his breathing. He wanted to cover his mouth, but he was fighting the urge, in an act of defiance. Because they didn't get to silence him anymore! He needed to say the words out loud, once and for all. He needed to say them, but it was hard to break those defences down after all these years.

He could see that Heath was staring at him and Josh was faced in his direction. Both seemed stunned into silence. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in.

"I saw them…" he said, voice trembling badly, "I saw them cut out a boy's tongue" He clamped his eyes shut and shook his head, as though to rid himself of the memories, "He struggled and they cut something… Like the jugular vein or something… He… He just… he bled out in front of us…"

"Oh God!" said Heath, as he crawled over to him and threw his arms around him. He ignored the tensing of his body and forcibly pulled him in so his head was resting on his chest. "Shhh… shhh… I got ya" he murmured, as he held his shaking body, "I got ya, mate." He couldn't help wondering how much worse this whole sad story was going to get. How had Kyle survived that house and come out of it even vaguely sane?!

"They cut it out in front of me!" he sobbed, clinging onto Heath's body tightly. "I can't get it out of my head." he said, shaking his head violently. "It just doesn't go away! I can see his face…"

"I'm so sorry" mumbled Josh, staring with eyes wide with shock, "I had no idea!" He could hear Kyle crying softly, and Heath repeating "It's okay" to him, over and over. "It's okay, mate, it's okay… I got ya."

After a few minutes, Kyle pulled away from the hug and wiped at his tears, feeling embarrassed to have made such a show of himself in front of Josh. At least he couldn't see him, he thought to himself. He looked at him and couldn't help but laugh. It was clear that Josh was incredibly uncomfortable with the whole situation and had absolutely no idea where to put himself. He'd never seen anyone fidget so much in his life! He shook his head at himself a little, wondering why he kept exploding like this, and if he'd ever feel 'normal' again. His emotions were just so close to the surface these days, and he felt like he could laugh or cry at any moment.

He hoped that the funeral might actually help to give him some sense of closure and let him move on with rebuilding his life. He needed to say goodbye to that part of himself, the part that thought he was still 'Kyle', and begin to form a new identity. It was time to let go.

"It's okay, Josh" he said, reaching over to pat him on the shoulder. "No more crying, or tantrums, I promise!" he said, giving a nervous chuckle. "I'll be on my best behaviour on Tuesday!"

 **iii.**

"I don't think that's the way it is at all!" said Zac, giving Hunter a serious look and shaking his head at him. "Not from what I've read anyway."

"But he's been pretending to be someone he's not all this time?!" asked Hunter, looking back and forth between Zac and Leah with a confused expression. "Why would he do that?! …I mean it just seems a bit suss to me…"

"I think it's a bit more complicated than that" said Alf, looking up from his paper and giving Hunter a disapproving look. "And we should probably all be minding our own business…" he started to say.

"It doesn't sound complicated to me!" said VJ, bouncing over to the table and leaning with one hand on the back of Hunter's chair. "How can you not know what your name is?! I think he's just a liar and now he's been found out!"

"Yeah, I mean, he just showed up and told them he was Kyle Braxton!" said Hunter, nodding his head at VJ. "Then they find the real Kyle buried in a shallow grave! …I mean how do we know that he didn't do it?!"

"Yeah" said VJ, giving Hunter a mischievous look, and starting to laugh, "We'll probably find out that Hunter isn't really Hunter… and he's buried some other poor kid in a shallow grave out in the bush!"

"That's not funny!" said Zac, getting off the couch and joining them at the table. He looked quite upset and gave both Hunter and VJ a stern look, shaking his head at them in a disappointed sort of way. "Can you think before you speak please, VJ? You too, Hunter!"

VJ's face fell as he realised what he'd said. Denny's murder was still something that they were coming to terms with, and talking about bodies being buried in shallow graves probably wasn't the most considerate thing in the world. "Sorry Zac! I didn't think!" he said, with an apologetic shrug of his shoulders. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"Yeah, sorry" mumbled Hunter, turning his attention back to his cereal.

"I think you should think about more people than me" he said, putting his hand on his step-son's shoulder. "Kyle Braxton is going through an incredibly tough time at the moment… and I don't think any of us should be making jokes about it!"

"But I just don't understand how he could have thought that he was someone he wasn't" said Hunter, looking back up at Zac for an explanation. "I mean… why would he lie if he wasn't hiding something bad?"

Josh and Evie suddenly appeared at the door, and it was clear that Josh wasn't happy. He'd overheard the conversation from outside the door and he couldn't hide the fact that it had made him angry "He hasn't been lying!" he said, scowling in Hunter's direction, as they walked in. Leah had invited them for breakfast, and they were meant to be going to the city with Oscar after lunch. "He didn't know that he wasn't Kyle." he said, shaking his head adamantly, "He didn't know!".

"Huh?" replied Hunter, still none the wiser. "How can you not know who you are?!"

Evie pursed her lips, and shook her head at Hunter disapprovingly, as she helped Josh find a seat at the dining table. "It's very complicated" she said, as she slid into the chair beside Josh and poured them both a glass of water.

"Well he's either lying or he's nuts!" said VJ, looking around the table and laughing. "I mean… you can't just decide that you're someone else one day! What if I just started telling everyone that I was Hunter King?!" he said, giggling a little.

"Shut up!" said Josh, growling in VJ's direction and flushing bright red in anger, "You have no idea what he's been through… so just shut up!" He couldn't get the sound of Kyle crying last night out of his head, and he couldn't stop thinking about that other boy having his tongue cut out. There was nothing funny about any of this!

"Josh!" said Leah, putting her hand on Josh's shoulder, "Calm down… It's just hard for people to understand." She glared at VJ and gestured with her head in a way that told VJ that he should apologise. "VJ didn't mean to upset you, did he?" she said in a deliberately leading way.

"No… I…" said VJ, starting to apologise.

"No! He's calling Kyle a liar…" said Josh, turning his head towards Leah beside him. "…And that is so far from the truth it's not even funny" he said, looking decidedly upset. "He didn't know who he was… other than what they told him."

"The people who had him? Those Hames' people?" asked Leah, sitting down on the empty chair beside him and resting her head on her hand. She'd read all the news articles and it had seemed to her that Kyle was the victim in all of this. She couldn't get the image of him as a little child out of her head. He just looked so small and frightened. "They told him he was Kyle?" she asked.

Josh nodded, "He was this poor little kid that they kept locked in a basement for years, who didn't even have a name. Then one day, they let him out and they told him 'Your name is Kyle Braxton'. That's what he was led to believe… I mean how was he to know any different?! Does anyone really know who they are? …It's your parents who tell you that!" He swung his head in an attempt to look in Hunter's direction. "Hunter! You, more than anyone should know that! You didn't even know that you had a dad until not too long ago! …We all just believe what we're told! …I didn't know that Andy and I had different dads…or that Casey was my brother!"

Hunter looked at Leah a little sheepishly, and then back at Josh, and said "I suppose… but… what about this other kid?! The real Kyle Braxton… I mean… what happened him?!"

Josh blew out a big breath and ran his fingers through his hair to brush it back from his face. "He was in that house too… Those Hames people killed him…" he said, wavering a little. This stuff was so horrible to talk about, and he was still reeling a little from the conversation in the garden last night. Truth be told, it had left him a bit shaken.

Evie gave his hand a little squeeze and jumped in. "It looks like they were going to get in trouble with DoCS because they had to hand Kyle back over to them… but the real Kyle was dead… so they had a bit of a problem." She looked at Leah and shook her head at her sadly. "They convinced that little boy that they kept in the basement that his name was Kyle. He didn't know any different… Suddenly, he was in a new foster home and everyone was calling him Kyle and telling him that that's who he was… He doesn't know what his real name is… or who his parents were… or where he really came from…. It's so horrible, Leah!"

"Can you imagine how hard it is?!" said Josh, shaking his head in wonder, "How scary?! He's spent the last 13 years thinking he was Kyle Braxton… and building a life for himself based on that lie." He shook his head and gave a sad sigh. "He thought he'd managed to find his family… tracking Brax, and Heath, and Casey down, and building a relationship with them… I mean… Imagine never having a family and then you find them… and then you find out that they're not really yours… He has nothing left…"

Zac shook his head, trying to imagine what Kyle's life had been like, and wondering what it would be like to suddenly have your whole identity ripped away from you like this. "How's he doing?" asked Zac, genuinely concerned for him. "How's he coping with all of this?"

"Not great" said Josh, answering honestly. "None of this is very easy. Having everything out in the open like this and everyone talking about him is hard… And the funeral is tomorrow, for the other Kyle… which is just weird."

"They're having a funeral?!" asked Alf, sounding shocked and surprised. "Here in the Bay?!"

Josh nodded and said, "Yeah, it'll just be a small gathering. I'm helping out… me and Andy… They're going to bury him beside Casey and Rocco… It's just so weird…"

Alf nodded in agreement. "I'd like to go" he said, "Show my respect… Do you reckon that'd be alright?"

Josh shrugged, unsure of what to say. "Think you'd need to ask Heath" he said, "I think they wanted it to be a private funeral… keep it small…"

"You pass on my best wishes then" said Alf, setting his paper down. He gave Hunter and VJ a scolding look and shook his head at them. "You young fellas should apologise to Josh here. You should be ashamed of yourselves talking about Kyle that way. That poor bloke is going through a tough enough time without you two galahs gossiping about him and jumping to conclusions!"

The two boys muttered their apologies in a very half-hearted sort of way and VJ sat down at the table and started buttering toast. He and Hunter exchanged glances and smirked a little when they thought no-one was looking.

Staring off into the distance in a sad way, Alf said "Burying any child is hard…"

"Oh hey!" came a voice from outside, grabbing everyone's attention. "Do you need something? …No? …Okay …well _that_ was rude!"

Everyone had stopped talking and turned to look at the door. Oscar walked in, shaking his head and muttering to himself, and then looked up at everyone around the breakfast table. He'd just come back from his morning run and was still breathless and sweaty. He gave Leah a quizzical look.

"Phoebe was just standing outside the door…" he said, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder, "…but she ran off when I asked her what she wanted."

"Ah yeah, she's renting one of the vans" said Alf, picking up his newspaper again, "Seems her and that Ash fella have had a falling out."

"Wonder what she wanted?" said Leah, getting up to go check on the food that she had in the oven. "Josh, are you staying for lunch? It's moussaka!" she called to him as she opened the oven door.

"Uh yeah… that'd be great… thanks…" said Josh, continuing to stare off towards the door, and wondering what Phoebe had been playing at. Had she been standing out there listening to the conversation?! Why was she being so weird?! He wondered whether he should tell Kyle and Heath when he got home or just let it go…


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's note: Thanks to Braxtonboyzz123 for the lovely comments on the previous chapter (and all the other chapters too!). I am so glad you liked them! It's always so nice to know what people think and interesting which bits capture different people's attention. Thanks also to FrankElza for your ongoing support. Hope you both enjoy this new chapter!**

 **xox**

 **Chapter 25**

"Hey baby!" said, Tamara, climbing onto the bed, and crawling up to sit beside him. She pulled in close to him, pressing her body in close to his, and leant her head on his shoulder. He had Noah lying sleeping on his chest, but there was a faraway expression on his face like he was lost in a world of his own. "You okay?" she asked, taking his hand in hers and intertwining her fingers with his.

"Mmm" he replied, nodding slowly with a distant look in his eyes. "Just tired" he said, with a little sigh. He gazed down at the sleeping baby, softly snuffling against his chest, and then turned to look at her with a questioning look. "I've been thinking…" he said.

"Ooh… I wouldn't do that!" she said, with a little smirk, "Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself!"

She knew it was a stupid joke but she wanted to try to lighten the mood somehow.

"Funny!" he said, rolling his eyes and shaking his head at her. He didn't mind her joking around most of the time but he wanted to be serious right now. "I've been thinking… What _would_ we do if someone just took him? …Just took Noah?" he asked, feeling a little sick at the thought of it. "I mean, what would we actually do? What would be the steps that we'd take to find him?"

She glanced at her tiny little baby, nestled safely in her husband's arms, and felt her stomach give a terrible lurch even just thinking about it.

"Uh…" she stammered, "uh… well, we'd call the police, wouldn't we?!"

"Exactly…" said Kyle, nodding and looking back at Noah's peaceful and sleepy little face as he stirred and gave a big yawn. "So, there'd be police reports, wouldn't there?"

Tamara nodded and gently stroked the top of Noah's little head, smoothing his dark hair, and feeling nervous at the thought of ever not knowing where he was.

"Yeah, that would be the first thing." she said, nodding to herself. "Then they'd put out an amber alert and it would be all over the news" she said, staring off into space herself as she thought through the likely chain of events. "And the police would probably bring us in for questioning…"

"So… If the police really think that I was abducted… why wouldn't there be any of that for me?" he said, blinking furiously, and wiping angrily at the few stray tears that were rolling down his cheeks. "They'd have found something by now." he said, shrugging his shoulders sadly. "I mean I know that they didn't have a lot of that stuff twenty years ago, but… there'd be police reports at least… _Something!_ "

She reached out and turned his face towards her, looking into his sad brown eyes, and then giving him a long lingering kiss.

"You have to stop torturing yourself" she said, tilting her head at him. "I can't stand to see you like this!"

"I can't stop" he said, wiping again at his tears, and looking back down at Noah. "It's just whirring round and round in my head, Tam! …I can't stop thinking about it! I need answers! …Even if they're not the ones I'm hoping for! …I just need to know."

"They said it can take time" she said "We can't give up hope! They'll find something soon… and who knows… maybe there are people out there who've been searching for you!" Even as she said it, she hoped that her voice wouldn't betray how worried she was for him. Her worst fear was that they might never find anyone… or get any answers at all.

"I doubt it" he said, shaking his head. "I just don't see it."

He gently lifted Noah's sleepy little body, and lay him down in his cot beside the bed, stroking his little tummy, and caressing the side of his chubby little face. With a heavy sigh, he lay back with his hand behind his head, stretching out and staring at the ceiling. Tamara pulled in close beside him with her head on his chest and she began to trace patterns with her fingers on his skin. As they lay there, cuddled close together in comfortable silence, she listened to his heart beating, and he watched the rise and fall of Noah's little chest in the cot beside the bed. He glanced at Tamara as she lay there beside him and he thought how nice it would be if they could just lie there together like that forever. If there was no world outside these walls, no memories of the life that had come before, and no fears for the future that lay ahead. Just him, his beautiful wife, and his tiny baby son. The only three people in existence… That would be just fine by him.

"I think the Someones need to find a new surname" he sighed, turning to kiss Tamara gently on the top of the head. "Mr Someone needs a new first name too… I don't think John is working out too well for him."

 **ii.**

Kyle flicked on the bathroom light and padded over to the sink in a weary sort of way. He'd been trying to sleep all evening but couldn't stop tossing and turning. He knew that he was annoying Tamara and if he kept up all his restlessness, he'd probably wake Noah too. But he just couldn't help it! He was so nervous and uneasy about tomorrow. He didn't know how he was going to sit there and watch the funeral! How was he meant to attend the funeral of the boy whose life he'd stolen?! As much as he'd been trying to pretend that he was okay with this, he really wasn't!

He gave a heavy sigh and turned on the cold tap, leaning his elbows on the side of the sink, and throwing handfuls of cold water into his face.

"Get it together!" he growled at himself, "Not now!"

He knew he was on the brink of having a panic attack. His heart was beating far too fast, thumping in his chest, and he felt like there were iron bands around his ribcage, stopping him from breathing in properly. His breaths were coming short and fast. Too shallow to really help. He hated this feeling!

"Come on!" he grunted, and drove his fist into his thigh as hard as he could. He hissed a little and closed his eyes, revelling in the pain as it travelled up and down his leg and began throbbing. He suddenly gasped a deep breath, as though the bands around his chest had loosened a little. He leaned both hands on the edge of the sink and drew in a couple of shaky breaths, holding them in as long as he could. His heart was still beating too fast but he was starting to calm down. This was the only thing that seemed to help him. The only thing that gave him back control.

He knew there was a deep and nasty bruise there already. It was multiple shades of black and purple and yellow and blue, layers of bruising, and of healing at various stages. He'd managed to hide it from Tamara so far, even when they'd had sex the other day, but he knew what she would say if she saw it. She wouldn't understand. No-one would understand. He didn't even really understand it himself. He just knew that he needed to do it.

He blew out a big breath and shook himself a little. It was about 3am and he needed to get some sleep if he was going to do this thing tomorrow. He turned off the tap and looked up at the mirror for the first time since he'd come in here.

His heart nearly stopped!

He was staring into the sad brown eyes of a young boy. Not just a boy, but ' _the_ boy'. That broken and damaged child he'd once been! Those eyes were staring right through him, but at the same time, they seemed to plead with him and ask for help. It was like he was begging for someone, _anyone_ to come and save him. As pointless as that was… His emaciated little body was littered with bruises and cuts; tell-tale signs of the abuse he had suffered. His tracksuit bottoms hung off his narrow little hips, hardly staying up, and just above the waistband there were vivid black fingerprints marking the pale flesh. He'd obviously been held tight in someone's unforgiving grasp. Similar hand-shaped bruises marked his upper arms and his throat, and he had dark bruises on his abdomen, as well as a split lip.

Kyle leaned forward and reached one hand out toward the mirror. He pulled back in shock when the child in the mirror did the same, literally mirroring his movements. He stared at the child for a moment and then lifted his hand experimentally to his own mouth, heart thumping in his chest.

' _This can't be real!'_ he said to himself, as he watched the child make exactly the same movement. Thin little fingers traced the split in his lip, and he winced a little himself at the touch. The child winced too!

He held one hand up in front of him and waved at the child. The child returned the gesture.

That's when he looked down at his own body and gasped when he saw the bruises on his own small body. He wasn't a man anymore! He was a child of maybe ten years old! Skinny little arms and gangly little legs. Maybe only 4 foot tall!

"No!" he shouted, leaping backwards so violently that he hit his head on the door behind him, "Noooooo!"

His mind was racing! Had he ever really escaped that house?! Had the Summers ever really taken him in?! Were Simon and Jessica waiting outside this door for him?! Was all of this life he'd been living just a fantasy?!

A wave of nausea crashed over him and bile began rising in his throat.

He looked around him, eyes flitting wildly, as he tried to figure out where he was. Had they always had brown and cream shag carpet in the bathroom?! Had they always had an avocado bathroom suite?! Had the light fixture always had loose wires around it?! Had there always been a smell of urine and mildew?!

He whimpered a little when he looked down at the deep hand-shaped bruises on his arms. He could see where the fingers had cruelly crushed the flesh on his thin arms. With a shaking hand, he traced his fingers over the marks, and bit his bottom lip to keep from moaning. They hurt! They really hurt!

Out of nowhere, a hand grabbed his throat and he gasped in fright as he was pulled back against a man's body. A man's _excited_ body. He started to wriggle and squirm, and pulled desperately at the hands holding him. He struggled with all he had to try to get away, but he was too small and helpless. It was like he was being manhandled by a giant. The man was twice his size! No matter what he did, he couldn't escape his strangle hold. He forced himself to stop struggling, and raised his eyes to look at the man behind him. His heart was beating so fast! Oh God, it was Simon! It was _Simon_!

"I told you to keep your mouth shut!" Simon hissed, so close to his ear he could feel his breath, "I told you what would happen, didn't I?! But, oh no! You decided to run your little mouth off to anyone that would listen, didn't you?! You even talked to the cops!" He narrowed his eyes at him, pulling a knife across his throat, and using his other hand to grip his chin firmly. He smirked at him in the mirror and gave him a wink, "Now, what do you think is going to happen?"

Before he got a chance to say anything, a hand was being forced inside his mouth, and his tongue was yanked out violently. Tears began to roll down his cheeks. Somehow, he'd always known this day was coming. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the pain.

"Nuh, uh, uh!" scolded Simon, as he shook him angrily, "Open those pretty little eyes of yours… I want you to look at yourself when I do it!"

"uuuhhhhmmmm!" he pleaded, clamping his eyes shut. He couldn't do it. He couldn't watch! Not that!

"Open your fucking eyes!" growled Simon, as he moved the point of the blade up to touch his eyelid, "Or your tongue won't be the only thing you lose tonight, you little shit!" He pressed the blade in a little and nicked him just under his eye. "Open them!" he warned him.

He forced his eyes open and stared straight ahead into the mirror. He could see himself trembling, every inch of his body shaking, as he stood there with _that man_ behind him. He could feel him pressing into him from behind. It was making him feel sick, on top of everything else. Flashes of memories were flooding through his mind. This was the man that had hurt him more times than anyone else.

And now he was going to cut his tongue out and make him watch!

He wasn't going to let this happen! He summoned all his strength and drove his elbow backwards, expecting to make contact with Simon's abdomen, but instead he hit thin air.

"What the fuck?!" he gasped, as he spun around. Simon was gone. He wasn't behind him. He gave an exasperated little laugh when he realised that he'd grown about 2 feet and wasn't a child anymore. The floor was tiled, and the bathroom suite was white. "It was just a dream!" he told himself, as he held his hand to his chest. His heart was still thumping painfully fast. "Calm down… It was just a dream."

He turned back towards the mirror and cried out in horror when he saw the boy there! The child was crying hysterically as he slumped across the sink with blood pouring like syrup from his mouth. His little hands hovered just below his face, blood passing through his trembling fingers, as he stared at it in shock. A bloody pair of scissors lay on the countertop, and a child's tongue lay discarded in the sink. Pink and bloody, but very recognisably a tongue. Slowly the boy's eyes raised to meet his own, a look of accusation on his face.

He watched in shock and horror as the child dipped his fingers in the blood pooling in the sink and used it to write on his own chest. Slowly, a word appeared, letter by bloody letter, as Simon stood grinning in the mirror.

' IMPOSTER'

He began to shake his head.

"Nooo!" he shouted, "I'm not! I'm not! I didn't mean to!" He tried wiping at the mirror as though he could somehow reach through and wipe it off the boy's chest. All he felt was the cold glass separating them.

The child sneered at him, a bloody gaping grin on his face, as he dipped his fingers in the blood again and began writing on the mirror. Kyle was breathing hard and fast again, his chest heaving painfully, as he watched the word appear. His stomach churned at the sight of it.

'N O – O N E'

He let out a loud roar and punched the mirror, shattering it, and ending up with a shard of glass buried in his hand. There was a pain so intense in his chest that he felt like he was dying. He couldn't breathe. Was he having a heart attack?!

"I'm not no-one!" he screamed, voice breaking as tears streamed down his face, "I'm not no-one! I'm not… I'm not no-one!" The problem was, he knew it was true!

Suddenly, a pair of arms were round his chest and pinning his arms to his sides. He screamed and began bucking his body, desperately trying to get away. "Noooo!" he roared breathlessly, "Get off me! Get off me! Please… Please let me go! Stop!"

"Shh, hey, hey…" said the voice behind him, "Hey, come on… calm down… I'm not gonna hurt you… It's just a dream." The arms were holding him tight and refusing to let him go.

"Nooo!" he screamed again, continuing to fight. He couldn't let it happen. Not again!

"Hey, hey, c'mon mate, it's me…" said Heath, struggling to hold him, "It's Heath… It's just me, just your brother…"

"H-Heath?" he asked, no longer fighting him and turning his head to look at him. His eyes were wide and startled. He looked almost childlike in his semi-conscious state.

"Yeah, mate" said Heath, sounding quite sad, "It's me… It's just me…"

He slumped in his Heath's arms and the weight of his body took both of them to the bathroom floor in a crumpled heap. "Hey, shhh" soothed Heath, as Kyle suddenly clung to his body like a frightened child, his hand clutching at his t-shirt, "Hey, I got ya… I got ya, mate…" he cooed. He used his hand to wipe the word 'no-one' off Kyle's forehead, feeling more than a little shocked to find it there in the first place, and that it had been written in blood. They were going to have to give his counsellor a call in the morning.

"He's bleeding" said Tamara, nodding to his injured hand as she stood in the doorway. She looked frightened and she'd obviously been crying. "I think we need to take him to the hospital."

 **iii.**

"Um… This is a really hard thing to have to do." said Heath, staring out at the very small gathering by the graveside, "As you all know…I didn't know my little brother"

He glanced at Kyle in concern, eyeing the bandage on his hand. He hadn't been sure about allowing him to come today, considering what had happened last night, but who was he to say that he shouldn't be here? Maybe he needed to do this, no matter how hard it was. He took a deep breath before continuing to read from the piece of paper in front of him.

"I didn't know my little brother at all" he said, "I never got the chance to meet him because... because some monsters stole him from this world before he even got a chance to make his mark. He was only a little kid!"

His voice broke on the last few words, and he took a big puff of air and blew it out again to regain his composure. He glanced at the faces gathered around him, thinking how sad it was that this little boy didn't have a single person that he knew at his funeral. He stared back down at the sheet of paper fluttering in his shaking hands.

"Um… so… I…" he stammered, as he desperately tried to find his place in his notes again.

With a heavy sigh, he folded the piece of paper and turned to look at the small coffin. It looked so tiny!

"All I really want to say is that none of this is fair! He was only a little kid and he shouldn't have died the way that he did! He died a terrible death! No-one should die in a place like that… I guess… I guess, I would have liked to know him… I mean I _know_ that me and my brothers would have liked to know him, and to know the man that he would have become… but… but he was taken from us."

He turned to look at Kyle, who was sitting beside Tamara a short distance away. He was gripping her hand for dear life and staring at the ground. The Summers were sitting behind him, with David leaning forward with his hand on Kyle's shoulder for support.

Heath gave Tamara a worried look, and nodded for her to check that Kyle was okay. He looked very pale and shaky, and given his breakdown last night, they were both worried about him.

Heath looked around the other mourners, spotting a lot of friendly faces, as well as a few people that he wouldn't have expected to turn up. Marilyn and John were there, of course, which he thought was kind of them, and Irene had come to support Bianca. Alf Stewart had spoken to him yesterday, saying that he'd always had a lot of time for Brax, and asking if it was okay to come and pay his respects too. Heath had been quite touched by that. Leah and Zac had come, which he really hadn't expected, but he was grateful that they hadn't brought their gaggle of teenagers with them on this occasion. Evie and Josh were sitting beside Kyle, and Ash was sitting with Billie and Kat towards the back. Even Nate was there. It was a bigger affair than they'd originally intended. He scanned the crowd and was relieved to see that Phoebe hadn't come. At least she'd had the good sense to give it a swerve.

"What those people did was…" he continued, blinking back a few tears as his emotions started to get the better of him. "I don't even have a word for it... What they did was…" he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. He looked at Bianca, and his face began to crumple, as his eyes filled up with tears. "I'm sorry, I can't…" he said, beginning to cry.

All the stress from the last few weeks had finally caught up with him and he just felt a bit overwhelmed by it all.

Bianca stood up and held her hand out to him and brought him back to sit down beside her.

"You did really well" she whispered to him, giving his knee a little squeeze and kissing him lightly on the cheek.

The funeral director stood up and said, "Does anyone else wish to speak?" glancing around the gathered mourners. He was well aware of the unusual circumstances of this funeral, and just how sensitive the whole situation was, so he was keen to move things on if possible, but he still had to be mindful of normal proceedings.

No-one answered at first, and he was about to move on to the part where they lowered the coffin, when a woman's voice said, "I'd like to say something if that's okay?"

Marilyn teetered up to the front on stiletto heels that kept getting stuck in the grass, and faced the gathered crowd. John gave her an exasperated look and shook his head at her in an embarrassed sort of way.

"I didn't know little Kyle either" she said, shaking her head sadly. "None of us did… But as many of you know… I'm quite a spiritual person." She gave a little smile as she looked around the confused looking faces. Since getting back from her world travels she'd been talking more and more about her deepened understanding of the universe and how her time spent in India had allowed her to unlock her spiritual connection with both the living and the dead. "You're probably all wondering why I'm up here?" she said with a nervous giggle.

John made a face at her and motioned with his head for her to come and sit down again. He was obviously embarrassed.

Heath shrugged at Bianca, and gave Marilyn a thoroughly bemused look. In a way, he was grateful that the mad little hippy was breaking the tension a little bit, and he could see that even Kyle was slightly amused by it, but he had no idea what she thought she was doing! It wasn't like she was part of the family and she hadn't even really been invited. She had no real business getting up there!

"Yes, well…" said Marilyn, beginning to look a little embarrassed herself. "As I said, I didn't know little Kyle… but he came to me in a… I wouldn't exactly say a vision… It was more of a feeling…"

She looked at Kyle, as he stared at her. He was shakings his head in wonder, clearly thinking that she was a couple of sandwiches short of a picnic. She walked over and reached for his uninjured hand.

"Little Kyle has been watching over you all these years…" she said, holding his hand between both of hers, "Like a protector… or a guardian angel… He's the reason that you got out of that house… He wanted some good to come out of his death. He wanted you to have the life that he didn't get to have!" She turned and smiled at the coffin.

Kyle looked up at her in total shock, and opened his mouth to speak, but the words just wouldn't come. A swirl of emotion was overwhelming him. Part of him wanted to believe it, needing so badly to believe that Kyle wasn't angry with him for stealing his identity, and making it out of that house alive when he didn't. But another part of him, the cynical Kyle that knew that there was no afterlife, was seething inside. 'Little Kyle' wasn't waiting on the other side, smiling down at him, and wishing him well! He wasn't anywhere! His little life had been snuffed out, and taken from him. Now, all that was left of him was the bag of bones gathered up and stuffed in that coffin in front of them. Trying to pretend otherwise was just a lie, and very hurtful at that.

He didn't understand how people like this, these hippy dippy healer types, thought that it was okay to spin such webs of manipulative lies, and play with people's weaknesses and insecurities in such a shameless way. It was cruel. Like telling someone who's dying that they're going to get a miracle cure if they just touch this relic, or bathe in that sacred water, or pray to whoever… It hurts… That's what these people don't understand… Those lies really hurt because they give people false hope where there is none. Harsh reality then hits so much harder when the fantasy finally comes crashing down.

He was getting more and more angry by the second.

She gave him a big ridiculous smile and patted his hand. "He wants you to be happy." she said, "I can feel his presence."

Kyle's heart was racing now as an anger was building in his chest. He didn't want to shout at Marilyn, and he'd promised himself that he'd hold it together, at least for the day of the funeral, but this was just too much! He couldn't deal with all this mumbo jumbo, no matter how well-meant it was! He started biting his tongue, digging his teeth into his own flesh until he could taste blood, just like he'd done as a child.

"Okay, that's enough!" said Heath, picking up on Kyle's obvious distress and taking Marilyn by the elbow to steer her back towards John. "Thanks Marilyn" he said to her, throwing John an exasperated look and rolling his eyes at him.

Kyle sat forward with his head in his hands, and stared at the ground, as Tamara gently rubbed his back in an attempt to calm him down. He was clearly close to a panic attack and he was doing some breathing exercises that his counsellor had been teaching him. He was feeling such a range of emotions in this moment though, that it was difficult for him to know what to do.

"Okay, well…" said the funeral director taking his place at the front. "Now that everyone has spoken… If you'd all like to stand, we will now commit Kyle's body to the ground." He pushed a button and the coffin began to lower with soft instrumental music playing in the background.

Kyle stood up, holding hands with Tamara, and fixed his eyes on the grey coffin as it disappeared into the earth. He thought how easily that could have been him in there instead of this other Kyle. The Hames' could easily have murdered him instead and no-one would have missed him, but instead they killed this other little boy, and he had simply filled the void that he'd left behind. Now he would have to try to carve out a space of his own in the world, whatever shape that happened to take.

Watching the coffin, he felt like he was burying a part of himself, like half of him was being ripped away. He really didn't know how he was going to start again. He'd been going through the motions for the last few weeks, but today it had all become so much more real for him, and he couldn't pretend it wasn't happening anymore. He had just buried Kyle Braxton. He had actually watched Kyle Braxton's funeral. There was no going back from here! The 'Boy' was right; he _was_ 'no-one'

He looked at the arm of his suit jacket where he knew his _'All Or Nothing'_ tattoo was. How apt had that tattoo turned out to be?! 'All… or _Nothing_ '? Now, he knew which one he was. He clamped his hand around it, squeezing hard and trying to hurt himself. He imagined digging his fingernails into his own flesh and peeling his tattoo away. Of course, if he did that, he knew he'd never be able to stop there. He'd have to remove all his skin like a snake and simply walk away.

He glanced over at Heath, suddenly realising that he was staring at him intently, and gave a very half-hearted smile. It was the best he could manage in the circumstances. He couldn't blame him for being worried after scaring him half to death last night. He just wished he'd back off a little.

Heath got up to thank everyone for coming and to let them know that there would be some sandwiches and coffee back at their house if anyone wanted to come back. As he looked around the sad looking crowd, he suddenly became aware of a face at the back that he didn't recognise. He craned his head to try to see who it was and then he saw the cameras around his neck!

"Hey!" he shouted, as he saw the man lift the camera and start snapping photos. "What are you doing?!" he yelled again, rushing towards him.

The man continued to snap photos of the funeral scene, ignoring the fact that Heath was fast approaching, and that the crowd had turned to glare at him angrily. As Heath approached, the man held his hands up and said, "If you touch me or my camera, I'll sue! Just try me!"

Heath grabbed the front of his shirt and growled, "You can't come to a private funeral and start taking photos! What kind of sicko are you?!"

"Just a journalist doing his job" said the man, showing a name badge inside his jacket. "And this is a public space so I can take as many photos as I like! …Now if you don't let me go, I'll have you for assault!"

"Heath! Let him go!" said Kat, suddenly appearing at his side. "It's really not worth it!" she said, gently pulling at his arm and shaking her head at him.

Heath reluctantly released him and the man dusted himself off with a self-satisfied look on his face. He backed away smiling smugly at him and then turned to leave.

"Flamin' mongrel!" exclaimed Alf, standing beside Heath and shaking his head in disgust as they watched the journalist walk away. "What is the world coming to?!" he asked, in an exasperated tone.

Heath blew out a big breath, trying to calm himself down, and turned to check where Kyle was. He could see Tamara standing with Noah in his pram, staring off into the distance with a look of panic on her face. Kyle was nowhere to be seen! Suddenly she spun round and made eye contact with him, gesturing with her arms that she didn't know what to do.

"He took off!" she shouted to him, with big eyes full of fear and worry, "He just ran!"


	26. Chapter 26

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks once again to FrankElza for the amazing reviews and incredible support throughout this story. I really hope you like this chapter! xx**

 **Chapter 26**

"I'll check out the back" said Heath, lifting Harley off his hip and handing him to Bianca as they walked into the living-room. "Maybe he just came home" he said, looking worried and heading quickly towards the back door.

"I'll check the bedroom" said Tamara, parking Noah's pram beside Bianca, and heading out into the hallway. She opened the door to their room, expecting it to be empty, but there he was, sitting on their bed.

"Baby?" she said, cocking her head to one side, "Baby? Are you okay?" She was a little angry with him for running off on her like that, but she was also worried. After last night, was it any wonder?!

He looked up at her and gave her a weak little smile.

"Sorry, Tam" he said quietly, tugging at the sleeves of his shirt. He pulled himself to the edge of the bed and got up. "I'll come out now…" he said, sounding tired, "I just needed to get out of there."

He started to move towards the door, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him back to look at him properly. He seemed to be avoiding her eyes, keeping them fixed on the floor. She put her hand out and lifted his chin to make him look at her. "I'm so proud of you" she said, when their eyes finally met, "Today was such a big hurdle… I can't believe how strong you are… and how brave!"

"Stop!" he said, clamping his eyes shut and shaking his head, "I'm not strong… or brave!" He turned and sat back down on the bed with his head in his hands. "I'm pathetic" he said in a small and broken voice.

It was then that she noticed the strong smell of bleach. She looked at him in horror and wondered what he'd done. He was still wearing his suit so it seemed unlikely that he'd have had a shower and put it back on again. She sat down beside him and reached for his hand, gasping a little when she felt how rough and raw the skin was. She picked it up to look at it. It was bright red, as though it had been burnt, and there were scratches all over the top, like he'd taken a wire brush to it.

"Baby… what… what did you…?"

He lifted his head and turned to look at her. "I'm sorry" he said, wiping at a few stray tears that had welled up in his eyes as he turned away from her. "That journalist… It's all going to be in the papers _again_ … It's never going to end, any of this… I can't… I can't deal right now... It's just too much"

"Can I see?" she asked, cautiously starting to unbutton the cuff of his shirt. He didn't pull away but he didn't look at her either. She undid the buttons and began to roll up the sleeve of his shirt, trying to be as gentle as she could. As the tattoo on his arm became visible she let out a gasp and covered her mouth with her hand. "Baby! What have you done to yourself?!" she cried, gently touching his skin with her finger tips. The smell of bleach was overpowering now.

"It helps" he said, through gritted teeth, but he kept wincing as her fingers made contact with his burnt and rubbed raw flesh.

"Baby, you've burned yourself!" she said, beginning to cry and looking at the red raw skin on her husband's arm. He'd obviously scrubbed long and hard at the tattoo and the skin was a deep red colour, more like raw meat than his normal sallow skin tone. It looked incredibly painful. She could still see the black ink as clear as day though, so he hadn't been successful in scrubbing it away.

"Baby, your poor arm!" she said, peeling the sleeve back further to check the extent of the injury. "Why would you do this to yourself?!" she cried, "Why would you hurt yourself like this?!" She already knew about his self-harming, but somehow, she hadn't imagined anything this bad.

He gave a little shrug, continuing to stare at the wall, refusing to make eye contact with her. He didn't know how to explain it to her.

"Sweetie, talk to me?!" she pleaded.

After a moment's silence, he glanced sideways at her with a guilty expression, before looking away again. "I don't know" he sighed, "It's just… It's like… a release… or something?"

"A release?" she repeated.

"I don't know… I guess, it helps…" he mumbled, "Helps me... to… concentrate" He held his free hand to his head and squeezed his temples. "It just… It helps me make it stop for a while…"

"Make what stop?" she asked, with a note of alarm in her voice.

He just clenched his jaw and shook his head at her. He couldn't say it. He couldn't tell her that he was trying to stop the feel of phantom hands all over his body. That he felt them all the time these days. She'd think he was insane!

"Just… the memories" he shrugged, "I can't stop thinking… My brain is whirring, like all the time… I just want it to stop for a while."

"But you're hurting yourself" she said, still staring at his arm. Part of her was angry with him. How could he do something like this to himself?! How could he not see how messed up this was?! "I want to… but I just… I don't understand…" she said.

"I didn't think you would" he replied, voice flat and sad, "No-one ever does…"

She shook her head and blew out a big breath to calm herself. "We have to get this looked at" she said, "These look like chemical burns… I need to get Nate to take a look."

She got to her feet and headed towards the door. She was pretty sure that Nate would have arrived by now and she could maybe get him to come take a look without anyone else needing to know.

"No!" he said, roughly tugging at the sleeve of his shirt to cover his arm again, and looking at her in a wounded sort of way. It was like what she was suggesting was some sort of betrayal of trust. "It'll be fine, Tam… I don't need Nate!"

"Baby" she said, giving him a stern look, "I think it's going to blister! If you think I'm going to let you do this to yourself and not do anything about it, you can think again!"

She walked back over and gently rolled up his sleeve again, treating him a little bit like she would a small child that was throwing a tantrum. She looked at his arm again, so red and inflamed.

"Now, I'm going to get Nate, and you're going to let him treat you…" she said firmly.

Before he could reply, she'd gone out to the living-room to find Nate, and just left him there staring at the floor. An anger was building in his chest. Of course, he knew that he needed help but it should have been his decision to make, shouldn't it?! Did she even realise that she was treating him like a child?! Why couldn't she just listen to him for once? Why did she always think she knew best?!

"Let me see this arm then…" said Nate, walking in with a concerned look on his face.

He couldn't hide his shock when he saw what Kyle had done. Tamara hadn't gone into details so he hadn't been expecting anything of this scale. She'd simply said that Kyle had burned himself. These were deliberate and extensive chemical burns and abrasions!

He crouched down beside the bed, and tentatively turned Kyle's arm as gently as he could to get a better look at the extent of the damage. Kyle sat staring at the wall in silence, clenching his jaw and wincing in pain, but refused to look at Nate.

"I think I need to get you to hospital" he said, looking up at Kyle with a worried expression. "These are pretty bad burns!"

"Aw, mate?! Shit!" exclaimed Heath, as he stood in the doorway, "What the… what the fuck have you done?!"

Kyle's head shot round to look at him. "Get out!" he growled, glaring at him and yanking his arm away from Nate. He didn't like the looks they were all exchanging, as though he was crazy, and something to be pitied. "Get out!" he shouted again, "All of you! GET OUT!"

"I can't let you hurt yourself like this and just walk away" said Nate, in a slow calm voice. "Now that I've seen you, I have a duty of care… I need to get you to the hospital so we can get this treated properly."

"You should listen to Nate" said Heath, eyeing Kyle's damaged arm with alarm. "You really need that looked at, mate!"

Kyle looked down at the arm in question, and then glared back up at the three worried faces all staring down at him. He felt his blood boil. People had been controlling him his whole life! He'd spent nearly fourteen years, as far as he knew, locked in a tiny damp cell, being raped and brutalised at will. He'd been handed to foster parents, without any say in the matter, and expected to just adjust to things. Danny Braxton had used him for his own selfish gains, and like a total idiot, he'd allowed him to. Even Brax had thought he could tell him what to do and he'd ended up mixed up in all sorts of things because of these 'brothers' of his.

He was sick of it. He'd buried Kyle Braxton today, and with him, all sense of his own identity... The question was, what kind of pathetic loser had 'Kyle' left behind?!

"It's fine" he argued, pulling the sleeve of his shirt down so they couldn't see it anymore. His voice was tight and full of anger. "I know how to look after it myself… I've done it before… I don't need your help."

"Not this time" said Nate, "This is serious."

"You have to go to the hospital" insisted Tamara.

"You can't just ignore it" added Heath.

"I'm not going" he said, getting to his feet.

Suddenly they were all talking at once and hands were grabbing at his arms and pulling him in all directions.

" _You have to go!"_

He tugged at the hands on his upper arms, as he started to feel his chest tighten.

" _We won't let you do this!"_

He shoved the hands away, his heart was thumping loudly in his ears.

" _Mate, I'll drag you there myself, if I have to!"_

Why did they have to keep touching him?! Couldn't they see that they were freaking him out?!

"Stop it!" he shouted, violently shoving Tamara away from him, and twisting out of Heath's hold to cower in a corner of the room. He put his hands up to cover his ears and closed his eyes tight. "Just stop it!" he pleaded, "Stop telling me what to do! Stop talking at me! …Just… Just shut up for a minute!"

They all stood and stared at him in silence while he visibly fought to calm himself. His chest was heaving in and out, and his hands were clamped tight over his ears. Tamara glanced at Heath and furrowed her brow. Neither of them knew what to do. Tamara wondered if they needed to call his counsellor and ask him to make a house call, or maybe even call an ambulance?

"Just give him a minute" said Nate, taking a seat on the bed and nodding for Tamara to do the same.

After a while, when he seemed to be calming down, Nate got up and walked slowly towards him. "Come on, mate" he said softly, as he touched him gently on the shoulder, "We need to go to the hospital… You know that."

Kyle opened his eyes and took his hands away from his ears. "Fine" he said, in a cold and stiff sort of voice, "Let's go to hospital then… since you obviously won't listen to me."

Tamara got up and picked up her bag.

"Not you!" he said, shaking his head at her, "Just me, and Nate".

"But?" Tamara began to say, "But… I…?"

"You stay here!" he snarled at her, before charging out past her, and grabbing his keys off the table by the door. The guests simply saw a grey blur, as Kyle ran out past them in his suit. The door slammed shut.

Tamara and Heath exchanged worried glances, unsure of what to do. Nate patted Tamara on the shoulder, giving each of them a sympathetic look. "I'll look after him…" he promised, "I think he just needs a bit of space… okay?"

Nate followed Kyle out to the car and got in the passenger side, as Kyle was already in the driving seat, and aggressively revving the engine.

"They're just worried about you" he said to Kyle, as they pulled out of the driveway at high speed. He couldn't help gripping onto the door handle and braking instinctively with his feet as they gathered speed. "We're all worried about you" he repeated, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to look at him.

Kyle simply snorted at him, as he wrenched the car round corners. "You shouldn't" he said, picking up speed in a way that seemed angry and reckless, "I'm not worth caring about."

 **ii.**

Kyle sat on the bed in the treatment room waiting for the doctor to come back. They'd irrigated the wound for about half an hour to neutralise the bleach and then applied ointments but they still had to bandage it. He'd heard the hushed conversation between Nate and the doctor treating him, so he knew that they weren't going to let him leave until he'd had a psych consultation. He didn't like it, but he understood why. He knew how bad the thing looked. It was dark red and threatening to blister. No wonder they were so worried about him.

He shook his head at himself. He'd really thought that this stuff was behind him. He hadn't scrubbed himself with bleach like that for years and years! He'd even stopped himself the other evening, as hard as that was, and he'd gone as far as telling Tamara so she'd know to keep an eye on him. He'd been trying to fight it. He'd been trying so hard! But he'd broken today, and he'd let everyone down. He'd seen the disgust on Tamara and Heath's faces as clear as day. He felt so ashamed. What must they think of him?! And what were the Summers going to say when they found out?! They'd be so disappointed in him!

His mind began to drift back to a night when he was sixteen years old. The night that Jenny and David found out just how messed up he was…

* * *

 _Kyle walked up the driveway with his schoolbag slung over one shoulder. He was staring at the ground as he walked, and dragging his feet. He knew something was wrong. He hadn't been feeling well all day. He was hot one minute, and freezing the next, and he'd nearly thrown up when he'd tried to eat his sandwich earlier. Just the smell of other people's lunches had turned his stomach. His head was pounding._

 _He put his key in the lock and opened the door. He intended to go straight to the bathroom and have another shower. He felt dirty. He'd been restless all day because he hadn't had time to have a shower this morning and just the thought of how smelly his skin must be had had him squirming and scratching. He'd avoided PE of course. He never did PE… because screw them! He couldn't shower in front of all those other kids! He wasn't doing that. Not ever!_

 _He started to walk towards his room when he heard Jenny and David talking in the kitchen. They weren't supposed to be home yet. He glanced towards the living-room window and saw their cars in the drive. He hadn't even noticed! He tiptoed to the kitchen door to listen._

" _How do we ask him about this?" he heard Jenny say, she sounded worried, "I mean, you know how defensive he is… Would he even tell us?"_

" _We have to try" answered David, "We can't let someone hurt him… I mean… God, what if…?"_

" _Don't!" gasped Jenny, "I don't even want to think about that! …Maybe there's an innocent explanation?"_

" _There's blood" said David, "I don't see any other way that it got there…"_

" _You really think someone's hurting him?" Kyle heard her ask, a thickness to her voice like she was fighting not to cry._

" _God, I don't want it to be true" sighed David, "But we need him to talk to us… and if he won't we're gonna have to take him to the hospital and get him checked out." Kyle heard the man give a tired sigh. "I just… How can this have happened, under our watch?! We're supposed to be protecting him!"_

 _Kyle's heart was racing as he listened to them. He knew what they were talking about! Jenny must have found the clothes he'd hidden under the bed! He cursed himself for being so lazy. Normally, he put them in the wash when he was sure they'd gone to bed, but he'd been too tired last night. She'd seen! He'd seen! They knew what he'd been doing!_

 _He needed to get out! He needed to find somewhere to hide! He couldn't face them. He couldn't talk to them… not about this! He turned to leave but the sudden movement made his head spin and he knocked into a table. A lamp fell off and smashed on the floor. He froze. Shaking!_

" _Kyle?!" he heard Jenny call out, "Is that you?!" There were scuffling sounds and the noise of chairs scraping back on the kitchen floor. They were coming._

' _They're gonna kill me!' he thought to himself, heart hammering violently and legs shaking as he heard their approach. He dropped to his knees and frantically started picking up the pieces. Maybe he could hide it?! When the door to the kitchen opened, he flinched, freezing to the spot and raising his hands to shield his head. "I…I'm s-sorry!" he stammered, with big scared eyes, "I d-didn't m-mean to! I'm sorry!"_

" _Sweetie" soothed Jenny, as she dropped down beside him, "We're not angry with you… We would never hurt you."_

 _He couldn't stop shaking. He knew it was Jenny, but somehow Jessica's face was in his mind, glowering over him, and baring her teeth like an angry wolf. He knew Jenny wasn't going to hit him, but his whole body was tensing in anticipation._

" _Kyle?" she reasoned with him, "It's just Jenny… Look at me… look at me, sweetie… Look where you are… You're safe here with us… With me and David" He could hear the sadness in her voice. "Look at me, Kyle, please?"_

 _He was trying. He glanced up quickly, glassy eyes flicking up to meet hers, just for a moment, before looking back at the floor. "I didn't mean to b-break it" he said quietly, "I d-didn't mean to."_

 _Flashes of memories were flooding through his head. He'd broken a lamp once back in the Hames house. Jessica had dragged him to the bathroom and nearly drowned him._

" _I'm s-sorry!" he sobbed._

" _I know that, honey" she sighed, "We don't care about the lamp… We care about you… You're what's important, not some silly lamp!"_

 _He shook his head. He knew that wasn't true. He was worthless. He didn't understand how these people couldn't see that! "I'm not" he said._

" _You're not what?" asked David, sitting on his hunkers behind Jenny._

" _Im-important" he stammered, "I'm n-not 'important'… I'm noth-nothing!"_

" _Oh God, sweetie" tutted Jenny, "You are VERY important! You hear me! You are the MOST important thing in the world to me and David… Don't you understand that?! We love you!"_

 _He hung his head even more and started to cry. His shoulders hunched up and down as the tears flowed down his face. How could they love him? How could they love something so disgusting and dirty? Didn't they know what he was?! How repulsive he was?!_

 _He heard Jenny make a little whimper, and then to his horror, she put her arms around him. How could she do that?! He hadn't showered today! Didn't she see?! He was dirty. She couldn't hug him now!_

" _No!" he gasped, pulling away from her and scrambling to his feet, "No! You can't hug me! Not now… not before I…"_

" _Not before what?" asked Jenny, as she got to her feet. She looked worried. He knew why. His reaction must have been a surprise because he didn't normally mind her hugging him anymore. Sometimes he even initiated hugs himself. But something else was clearly bothering her. She was actually sniffing the air around him. He smelt of bathroom bleach._

" _I need a shower" he said, trying to push past them towards his room, "I need… I need a shower…" His voice was high pitched, verging on hysterical._

" _No, wait, Kyle?" called Jenny, as she caught hold of his arm to stop him. She looked shocked when he hissed in pain. "W-what's wrong?" she asked._

" _Nothing" he answered, subconsciously tugging at his sleeves, "I just…"_

" _Did I hurt you?" she asked, "Have you hurt your arm?"_

" _No… it's fine" he replied, "I just need a shower…" Why couldn't they just let him go?! He tried to leave but David caught hold of his wrist and stopped him._

" _Let me go!" he whined, as he began to shake and cry again. His voice was quiet and choked. "Please, David, let me go?!"_

 _He knew it was David, but Simon's face kept flashing through his mind. He never would have spoken to Simon that way. He never would have spoken to Simon at all. Simon would have broken his wrist for talking back to him. Snapped it like a twig. He knew that from experience. He stared down at David's hand on his wrist and imagined him twisting it violently._

" _Let me see your arm" coaxed David._

" _No!" gasped Kyle, "I can't!"_

" _Please, Kyle" pleaded David, "Please let me see?"_

" _Please, David?!" sobbed Kyle, as he tried to free his wrist, "Please don't make me?! I'll be good… I just… I'm dirty…"_

" _No, Kyle… you're not" sighed David._

 _Kyle looked at him for a moment and then hung his head. All the fight had gone out of him. He felt dizzy and hot._

 _David shook his head in a sad sort of way and began to pull Kyle's sleeve up. He gasped loudly when he saw the blistered red skin underneath and noticed the stench of bleach. His eyes drifted to the neckline of Kyle's top; there was a similar reddening of the skin there. David didn't say anything, he just looked at him with the saddest possible expression. His eyes were so kind, so full of love and concern. Kyle still wasn't used to having someone look at him like that. He didn't think he deserved it. He could see Jenny standing behind David. She looked distraught. He felt ashamed._

" _I'm sorry" Kyle mumbled quietly, "I'll understand if you don't want me now."_

" _God, Kyle" groaned David, as he reached out and took his face in both hands, forcing him to look at him, "We want you… Nothing you could ever do would make us not want you. I wish you could understand that." He took him tentatively by the shoulder and led him over to the couch to sit down._

" _It… it's not as bad as it looks" said Kyle. as he watched David turn his arm back and forth to look at it._

" _Mmm" sighed David, "It looks like it hurts?"_

 _Kyle shook his head. It did hurt, he was lying, but he didn't want them worrying. He could see Jenny staring with a furrowed brow. Too late!_

" _Kyle" said David, with a pained expression, "I know you're not gonna like me asking this… but I'm going to need you to take your shirt off…"_

 _Kyle's eyes went wide and he started to breathe a lot faster. He knew why David was asking, and that it was a completely innocent request, but too many men had asked him to get undressed over the years and just the thought of taking his shirt off was setting off flashbacks. He gripped the cushion of the couch with his free hand. He couldn't hear David anymore! His mind was filled with auditory memories of past trauma. He could hear the sounds those men made! He could hear them grunting in his ears. Their laboured panting, hot and heavy on his back. Their disgusting words of encouragement… He felt like his world was dissolving…_

 _A voice suddenly broke through the horror in his head._

" _Kyle?!" it was shouting, as a hand shook his shoulder, "Kyle?! Please, look at me! Look at me… Easy, come on, just breathe and look at me… It's David… It's just me…"_

 _Kyle forced himself to look at David's face but something was wrong. He couldn't bring his eyes into focus. Everything was fuzzy and his head was spinning. He felt like his skin was on fire. Why couldn't he breathe properly?!_

" _Kyle?!" called Jenny's voice, and he felt a cool hand on his forehead. "Oh God, David!" he heard her gasp, "He's burning up! Feel his head!"_

 _Her cool hand was replaced by David's warmer one, and then suddenly he was being lifted bridal style and carried outside._

" _W-where are we going?" he managed to say, when he felt the motion of the car, "W-what's happening?!" He could see the passing streetlamps and realised he was lying down in the back seat. Had he been drifting in and out of consciousness?!_

" _The hospital" said Jenny, "Baby, we're just taking you to the hospital, you're sick…You're very sick, honey…"_

* * *

"Mr Braxton?" said a voice, that shook him from his thoughts. The psychiatrist had finally come to see him.

"I don't use that name anymore" he answered, with a gritted jaw, "I've told your colleagues that… repeatedly."

 **iii.**

" _MAN ATTENDS OWN FUNERAL"_ read the headline.

Irene held up the tabloid newspaper in disgust, as she sat at the breakfast table with Chris. "That poor young fella!" she exclaimed, tutting loudly and holding it for Chris to look at. "That boy's whole world is falling down round his ears and they're busy dancing on the rubble!"

Chris took the paper out of Irene's hands to look at it properly. It had a huge photo of a very distressed looking Kyle on the front page, with two smaller ones of the coffin, and of the Hames' being taken into custody, handcuffed and looking startled. The article described how Kyle had been living under the false belief that he was 'Kyle Bennett/Braxton' when in reality there was a murdered child by that name buried on the Hames' property. It outlined how the identity of this imposter, known to locals as Kyle Braxton, was still unknown, and postulated that he might in fact be the offspring of the Hames couple themselves.

Chris finished reading and glanced up at Irene in horror. "You don't think he is, do you?! …I mean, he couldn't be theirs, could he?!"

"I guess he could!" said Irene, grimacing at him and then taking a sip from the coffee cup she cradled in both hands. "I hope for his sake that he's not though!" She didn't like to think that he was the child of such cruel and evil people.

"This whole thing just seems to be getting worse and worse!" said Chris, picking up his breakfast things and taking them over to the kitchen counter. "What was it like?" he asked, leaning his back against the counter to look back across the room at her.

"What? The funeral?" she asked, shrugging a little. "It was sad, like any funeral, I suppose…"

"Yeah but… I mean…" he said, screwing up his face, "It must be so weird… sort of burying 'yourself'? …I mean… I can't imagine finding out that I'm not 'me'… and then having to bury… 'me'"

"Well… yeah… That would be weird!" she said, shaking her head and rolling her eyes a little. "You do know that he didn't _actually_ bury himself, don't you, Chris? ...I mean… It was just a little kid with the same name as him."

"Yeah, course!" said Chris, blushing up a little. If he was honest, he had sort of thought of it as Kyle burying himself. As though he was holding a funeral for himself, like he and the dead boy were somehow the same person… "It must have been hard for him though? I mean… he still doesn't know what his real name is, does he?"

"No, he doesn't" said Irene, staring down at the picture of Kyle on the front of the paper. She felt terribly sad for him, especially having seen how upset he was yesterday, and Bianca had certainly seemed quite affected by the whole thing. "That poor boy has been to hell and back by the sounds of things, and having these journos turning up taking pictures isn't making things any easier! Honestly, Chris, they're like vultures! They have no shame!"

 **iv.**

Andy walked up the wooden path from the beach, drying off his hair with his towel and tugging at the T-shirt that he'd just thrown on over wet skin. It was sticking to him a little and making him uncomfortable. He looked up and spotted Josh standing by the railings, and shook his head at himself. He'd forgotten for a moment and raised his hand to wave. Josh's blindness still made him a little sad sometimes.

He was meant to be meeting him for breakfast but he'd lost track of time and he was at least twenty minutes late at this stage. He ran the rest of the way and reached him a moment later.

"Hey mate" he said, panting a little and putting his hand on his shoulder to let him know that he was there. "Sorry I'm a bit late."

"You're always late" said Josh, turning around to face him. "Why change the habit of a lifetime, eh?" he said, with a sarcastic smile.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever!" he said, laughing a little and holding out his arm to let him link on him. He deliberately bumped him a little with his shoulder to let him know that he'd turned to stand beside him. It was easier for Andy to lead him than to find his own way there with the cane. Josh took his arm and they headed towards the diner. "How was Kyle… y'know… after?" asked Andy.

"I dunno…" said Josh, furrowing his brow a little, "I don't think he's back from the hospital yet… Evie said she'd call when he got home." He couldn't help being worried about him. Disappearing like that after the funeral had put everyone on edge, but he was one of the few people who knew where he'd gone. He wondered if the doctors would let him out today. "He's just having a really tough time" he said.

"Yeah, I can't imagine…" said Andy, but he trailed off as something distracted him. "Uhhhh…." he started to say, trying to pick up his train of thought but he was clearly watching something in the distance.

"Andy?" said Josh, picking up that something wasn't right.

Andy was too busy watching Phoebe. She was talking to a man outside the diner, down the side by the bins, and in a ridiculously obvious way, she had taken an envelope from him and stuffed it in her bag. It couldn't have looked more like a poorly executed drug deal had they tried. She'd even looked all around her to make sure that no-one was looking. It was almost cartoonish!

"Um…" said Andy, stopping them in their tracks. "I've just seen Phoebe with that Journo guy from yesterday" he said, "I think he just gave her a wad of cash?!"


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's note: Thank you soooo much to FrankElza for the continued support and amazing reviews. I'm so glad you're enjoying this story. You're a little star!**

 **Chapter 27**

 **i.**

Kyle clenched his jaw and breathed out heavily through his nose as he made his way back up the path to the front door. He was embarrassed, and tired, and all he really wanted to do was have a shower and wash the smell of the hospital off him. Of course, he knew that Tamara and Heath were probably never going to let him have an unsupervised shower ever again, and that was just adding to his anger and frustration. He wished that he could have hidden things better.

"It's fine…" he said, glancing back at the other man as he fished his keys out of his pocket. "Really, Nate, you didn't need to escort me home."

The skin specialist had said that he would heal pretty well and that he was very lucky not to have more serious burns. A follow-up appointment had been made for him with the psychiatrist, but they'd decided that he wasn't an immediate risk to himself and allowed him to go home. Self-harm was not enough to warrant a forced stay in the psychiatric ward.

"I just want a word with Tamara" said Nate, giving him a look that said that he wasn't taking no for an answer. "They said you could come home, but only if there's someone keeping an eye on you."

Kyle just nodded, feeling too tired to argue with him, and opened the door.

There was no-one in the living-room, but he could hear voices drifting in from outside. Everyone was obviously out in the back garden. He made his way over to the kitchen to look out the window so he could see who was out there. Tamara and Bianca were at the patio table with Jenny and David, while Darcy was entertaining Harley.

"They outside?" asked Nate as he joined him at the kitchen counter and peered outside.

"Yeah" he said, glancing a little guiltily at the stack of dishes on the countertop that were waiting to be loaded to the dishwasher. Heath and Tamara had had to deal with everyone and then clean up the mess afterwards. He felt a little bad about that. He also felt bad for not calling Tamara last night to let her know what was happening. He'd made Nate do it instead.

"Was she angry?" he asked, keeping his eyes fixed on the garden scene outside.

"She's just worried about you" answered Nate. He turned to lean his back against the counter and gave him a sympathetic little smile. "Mate, listen" he said, "You need to be open with her… With Heath too… Bottling everything up isn't going to help… You need to tell someone how you're feeling."

Kyle glanced at him for a moment, resisting the urge to bite his head off, and gave a tired sigh. "I know" he admitted, "I just… This is… I don't know…" Words were failing him. He didn't know what he was feeling right now. He was swinging violently back and forth between furious anger and the desire to curl up in a ball and cry himself to sleep. He just wanted to go back to when people didn't know about all of this stuff. He wanted to go back to when he was Kyle.

"This is hard for her too" said Nate, "You need to remember that… The people that care about you, they're trying their best."

"You don't think I know that?!" he snapped, "I see the way she looks at me now! I see the way Heath does… Even you, right now."

"How am I looking at you?" asked Nate.

"Like I'm some fragile little victim" he growled out through gritted teeth, "Like I'm going to fall apart at any minute… Like… Like you know I'm…" He stopped himself before he said the words 'damaged goods'. He didn't want Nate dragging him back to the hospital or trying to psychoanalyse him. He was too tired for that.

"That you're what?" asked Nate, unfazed by Kyle's anger.

"It doesn't matter" muttered Kyle.

"No, Kyle, what were you going to say?" pressed Nate.

"I said it doesn't matter!" he snapped. He pushed away from the counter and headed towards the back door. "I need to see Tamara."

"Wait, Kyle?!" called Nate, "We need to talk about this…"

"No, we don't" he answered, before stepping into the garden.

Tamara looked up at him when he walked into the garden, unable to hide the hurt expression on her face. He gave her a sheepish little smile and walked towards her. She looked away and continued to talk to Bianca in a forced sort of way, making it clear that she was upset with him. He arrived at the table and they all looked up at him, with worry clearly etched on their faces.

He gave them all a tired and very forced smile.

"I'm really sorry" he said, kneeling down beside Tamara and giving Noah's little foot a gentle squeeze. "I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. None of this is your fault, I shouldn't be taking it out on you."

She looked down at him with a wounded sort of look. "I'm just worried about you." she said, a little stiffly, "You really scared me… Baby, look what you've done to yourself!"

"I know" he said, taking her hand in his and giving it a little kiss. He looked at the bandage on his arm, "It was a really stupid thing to do…" he admitted, "The doctors said it'll be okay though. I haven't done too much damage."

"Oh well, that's okay then" she said a little sarcastically.

"I'm sorry" he repeated, "I won't do it again, I promise."

Tamara gave a little nod although it was fairly clear that she didn't believe him. The worried little glance she threw David didn't go unmissed.

"I mean it" he said, turning to look at his foster dad, "It just… it just got on top of me for a moment or two… I've got it under control."

David shook his head at him a little sadly. He'd heard that too many times before. "Jenny and I are here if you need to talk to us…" he offered, "We got you through it the last time and we'll get you through it this time, if you'll let us support you."

Kyle looked at his foster father guiltily as flashes of memories flooded through his mind. He could remember David and Jenny sitting at his bedside, faces drawn with fear and concern, as they watched a ventilator breathe for him. David's warm hand had clasped his, Jenny's hand had stroked his hair, and he'd heard their soft words of encouragement, floating in and out, as they'd pleaded with him to fight and to come back to them. He'd drifted in and out of consciousness for days, delirious and confused, and too weak to fight the infection in his poor ravaged body. His burns had led to sepsis and they'd kept him in the ICU for nearly a week. He'd almost died.

"It won't be like the last time" he said, shaking his head as though he was trying to convince himself more than them. He stroked the bandage on his arm and gave them a little smile in an attempt to reassure them. "I'm never gonna let it get that bad." he said to Jenny, before looking up at David, "Not ever again."

Jenny and David shared a little glance, worry written all over their faces. "Well, as long as you know we're here" said Jenny, "You know we'll help you in any way we can".

"Thanks" he said, getting up and taking a seat beside Tamara. As he did so, he saw David hastily folding a newspaper and trying to slip it down the side of the seat where he was sitting. Something about the move seemed a little suspicious. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he simply held his hand out to David and nodded his head towards the hidden newspaper. "Let me see?" he asked.

"Son, I don't think…" David started to say…

"Let me see it" insisted Kyle.

 **ii.**

"Hello?" said Kyle, as he sat perched on the edge of the couch with his phone to his ear.

He wiped the sweaty palm of his free hand on the leg of his jeans and jittered his knee up and down. His heart was thumping as he looked down at the paper with his photo on the front. He needed desperately to make sure it wasn't true!

"Hello, yes, I'd like to speak to Detective Drazic, please?" he said, his voice shaking and unable to hide the sheer panic that he was feeling.

He grimaced a little, listening to the question at the other end of the line; _'Who should I say is calling?'_ Answering that question wasn't simple anymore. It was something that other people took for granted but something that sent him into a tailspin now. Who was he? He took a deep breath and answered very quietly.

"Um… It's… It's um… Tell him it's ' _about'_ Kyle Braxton".

He couldn't bring himself to identify himself by that name. The words would have stuck in his throat and choked him. This was the only way that he could get the words out. The person at the other end put him on hold and _'Don't Worry, Be Happy'_ blared down the line at him. He couldn't help laughing a little bitterly at their choice of hold music.

"Hello, this is Detective Drazic." came a voice at the other end of the line. "Kyle Braxton?" he asked, in that soft and sympathetic tone that he'd used throughout the interview.

Kyle flinched at the sound of the name but he knew that that was how he was still legally known, at least for now.

Drazic had said that legal proceedings would begin shortly to rebuild him an identity if no family could be found. He would be re-issued with documentation based on the identity that he wanted to create for himself. He would have to choose a name and a birth date, and new identity papers would be issued for him, along with social security numbers, and even a sort of birth certificate for special situations like his. It was a particularly unusual situation so there were some things that didn't appear to have a precedent, and that he'd have to hire a solicitor to sort for him. They weren't sure about the legalities of his marriage certificate for example, or the ownership of the businesses acquired through the name Kyle Braxton.

It was all very complicated. In any case, at least for the time being, he was still Kyle Braxton in the eyes of the law. Sort of. Things were going to get a lot more complicated now that Kyle's funeral had taken place.

"Yes, Detective Drazic! Have you seen the papers today?!" he asked, speaking quickly and nearly tripping over his own words. "Is it true?! I need to know! P-please don't say it's true!"

"Hang on, mate! Hang on!" said Drazic, sounding confused. "I haven't seen what you're talking about. What papers?!"

"The local rags ran a story about me… I don't know if it's gone national yet… They said that the Hames' are my parents… That I'm theirs… and that they just used me and gave me away!" His voice was becoming more and more breathless as he spoke, the panic clearly taking hold.

Drazic blew out an exasperated breath. "No mate" he said, "I can categorically tell you now that you're not related to either of those sickos! It's not true! I don't know where these idiots get their ideas from!"

"How do you know?" asked Kyle, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. He gave Tamara a thumbs up and a sad little nod.

"We ran a DNA test right at the start. You're not a match for either of them." he said. "Definitely not."

Kyle rubbed his face in his hand and let out a loud sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank god!" he said, feeling his body start to relax a little. He'd felt like every muscle had been pulled tight and his stomach had been doing somersaults since he'd seen that headline. "So, if it's not them… Is there any news at all?" he asked a little sadly. He was already pretty sure that he knew the answer.

"No, I'm sorry, mate" said Drazic, sounding a little sad for him. "We haven't been able to find you on any of the child abduction databases."

"So… I wasn't abducted then?" he asked, glancing at Tamara who was hanging on his every word and trying to follow the conversation as best she could from Kyle's responses. He shook his head at her, and shrugged, feeling more than a bit depressed.

"Well, there's no record of anyone around that timeframe, who would fit your description. At least… not in this country." He took another deep breath and said, "So we're extending the search internationally… and we're um… well… we're starting to look at murder cases where the body wasn't recovered."

Kyle nodded and closed his eyes, thinking that he hadn't thought of that possibility, but that it made sense. He could have been abducted, rather than murdered, but presumed dead. It seemed like a bit of a long shot but it sounded at least like they hadn't given up on him… not yet.

"Okay, thanks Detective Drazic" he said, "I really appreciate that you're still trying."

"Drazic, mate, just call me Drazic." the other man replied, "You can drop the 'Detective'"

When Kyle got off the phone he flopped down into the cushions of the sofa and rested his head on his hand. Tamara squeezed in beside him and took his other hand in hers.

"Well… That's a relief, isn't it?" she said, looking up at him with a little half-smile. She could see how much this whole thing was affecting him, and she wanted to get her hands on that Journalist from yesterday and wring his sorry neck for him.

"Yeah, it is" he said, rubbing his chin and staring up at the ceiling as he mulled something over. "To be honest" he said, his voice quiet and distant, "I should have known that it wasn't possible… Simon's thing was little boys… and the younger the better… He was… He liked them small… By the time I left that house, he'd lost interest in me completely."

He glanced down at Tamara's big shocked eyes and wished that she didn't have to know all this stuff. He really wanted to go back a few months to when she'd been blissfully ignorant of the miserable life that he'd led as a child and sew his stupid mouth shut. Now that it was out there, he had to tell her everything, and he hated seeing that pained expression on her face when he forced her to see how horrible, and full of monsters, the world really was.

"Jessica was someone who liked to watch" he continued. "She got off on it… I really couldn't see either of them having a normal sexual relationship and having a baby together. It just wasn't in them."

Tamara turned, taking his face in her hands, and leaned in to give him a gentle kiss on the lips. "I'm so sorry that all this stuff happened to you" she said simply, tearing up a little as she spoke, "I just wanted to tell you that again, in case I haven't said that enough."

He gave her a sad little smile and leaned his head against hers. "You just being here is enough" he said.

 **iii.**

Phoebe sat in the diner, with her bag in her lap, and picked at the fries on her plate nervously. She wasn't proud of herself… not at all! But what choice did she really have?! At least that's what she kept trying to tell herself. $400! It wasn't going to last her long. She wondered what she was going to do when that ran out. She didn't have a job anymore and she'd been trying to find a new one, but with the charges for the theft of the laptop hanging over her, she wasn't having much luck.

She looked at the newspaper that Charlie, her journalist mate, had given her and felt a terrible pang of guilt for what she'd done. Kyle was one of her oldest friends, and someone that she actually really cared about, and she'd treated him like this?! She shook her head at herself in disgust.

She opened her bag and looked at the envelope inside, ripped open at one side so that she'd been able to count the money and make sure that it was all there. She thought about Kyle's words the other night, _"How low can you actually get Pheebs?! …How many people do you want to hurt along the way?!"_

Was $400 the price that she'd put on her soul?

"Can I get you something else, Darl?" asked Irene, clearing away the dishes on the table next to her, and glancing down at the paper on Phoebe's table. "Oh, you've seen it too?!" she said, shaking her head in a disapproving sort of way, "Just a pack of vultures, those journos!"

Phoebe nodded and turned the page, pretending to read an article about a planned expansion of the hospital, and refusing to make eye contact with Irene for fear of crying.

"Okay Darl, well you just sing out if you need anything else" said Irene, thinking that Phoebe must be more upset about this whole thing with Kyle than she was letting on. After all, they had been an item once, so it made sense that she'd be affected by it.

Once Irene had gone, she turned back to the front page and peered down at Kyle's sad and haunted looking eyes. It was like they were boring into her soul, cursing her, and accusing her of being the worst person in the world… Maybe she was?!

She glanced around the diner and wondered to herself what she was even doing here. She had no friends anymore, just like Heath had said, and no-one really wanted her there. Maybe it was time to cut her losses and move on… but where to?

She picked up her phone and flicked down through the numbers. She'd burnt her bridges with so many people at this stage that she really wasn't sure where to go or who to turn to. As she scrolled down, her eyes fell on the word "Dad". Could she really go crawling back to him after all this time… after what he'd done? Was what he'd done really any worse than some of the things she'd done recently? Maybe it was time that she went home? He'd be able to get her a job at least, and she could always live with him until she got herself sorted… She pressed call and waited.

"Dad?" she said, smiling when she heard his voice, "Dad, it's Phoebe!"

 **iv.**

"What would you think of taking the name Summers?" asked Kyle, lying on the couch with Tamara curled in at his side. "Would that be really weird?"

He glanced down at her as she lay with her head on his chest, and he brushed her hair away from her face to see what her reaction was. She looked up at him with eyes shining bright like stars and gave him the biggest smile.

After speaking to Drazic he'd almost resigned himself to the likelihood that they were never going to find his birth family. If he really didn't have people out there who were looking for him, then he figured that he was going to have to make the most of the family that he did have. When he thought about the love and support that Jenny and David had shown him over the years, and how they'd dealt with all of his issues over those years, he realised that he already had it pretty good. They were better parents than most, and he thought that he'd be proud to take their name. That's if they didn't mind.

Tamara sat up and faced him, taking his hand in hers, and looking excited.

"I think that's a lovely idea!" she grinned, "I wanted to suggest it …but I wasn't sure you were ready to go there yet!"

He smiled and gave a relieved sigh. "I was worried you might think it was weird… I mean you've only just met them…"

She leaned in, gently caressing the side of his face, and kissed him.

"They're your family!" she said between kisses, "…and they're lovely… and it makes sense." She took his hand in hers again and started to play with his wedding ring. "Summers! What a beautiful name?! I like the sound of that! …Mr and Mrs Summers! …Tamara Summers… and Noah Summers… and…" She turned to look at him again with a quizzical expression on her face, "Have you thought what you want your first name to be?"

He looked a little nervous and bit his bottom lip. "Uh… I think I might actually keep Kyle?" he said cautiously and looking at her for approval, "I mean, I just can't imagine having a different name… I've only ever been Kyle… Is that really weird?"

She smiled from ear to ear, and threw her arms around his neck. "Baby, you have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that!" She took his face in her hands, leaning in for a lingering kiss, and then leaned her forehead against his. "I love you, Kyle Summers! I love you so much."

 **v.**

Phoebe got off the phone, and set it down on the table with a self-satisfied smile on her face, and motioned for Irene to come over and take another order. It was all sorted! She was going home! Her dad was going to make some phone calls and line up a job for her. He had some contacts in a sound recording studio in St Kilda, working with up and coming artists, and he thought he could get her a job there for relatively decent money. One of the 2 bed units in the apartment complex that her dad owned was up for rent, and he'd said that she could take it rent-free until she got herself sorted, so she even had a place to live. Those apartments were super swish! She was leaving in a couple of days once she'd sorted things out with the police.

"I'll have a strawberry milkshake and a big slice of mudcake!" said Phoebe, giving Irene a big cheesy grin.

Irene gave her a quizzical look, wondering what had caused such a dramatic change in mood, and turned to go and get her order.

She stared down at the newspaper in front of her again and decided to just let all the guilt go. Her dad was right! What was done was done, and she'd be leaving now anyway, and Kyle would never have to see her ever again. Did it really matter? They probably would have found out about the funeral anyway, and Kyle had kind of forced her into it by letting Heath fire her. The more she looked at it, the more she felt that it wasn't really her fault.

She picked up the newspaper and flicked a few pages forward and started to read with a relieved sigh. She wasn't really interested in anything that this small town newspaper had to say for itself now, but she was in such a good mood, that she wasn't really sure what to do with herself.

She suddenly became aware of a child hovering beside her table. She looked up and saw a little girl, about seven years old, licking at an ice cream and eyeing the front of the newspaper with interest. She was standing in a strange way, swaying back and forth, and she had ice cream all around her mouth, making her look sticky and unkempt.

"What do you want, squirt?" asked Phoebe, peeking over the top of the paper at the little girl. She really didn't like kids and the way this one was staring at her was making her a little uneasy. "What?! Speak up!"

The little girl just continued to stare, unfazed by Phoebe's unfriendly demeanour, and licked slowly at her ice cream cone. She seemed fixated by the picture on the front of the paper.

"What? You want this?" asked Phoebe, glancing at the picture on the front. "You want my newspaper, do you?!" she said, laughing a little at how ridiculous it seemed for a small child to want to read the newspaper. "Here, be my guest!" she said, handing it over and motioning with her head for her to leave her alone now. "Go! …Skidaddle!" she barked at her light-heartedly.

The child snatched the newspaper and ran over to her father who was up at the counter paying for their food. "Look daddy! Look!" she said, tugging at his sleeve. "Look!" she whined at him.

He took the paper out of her hand, giving her a scolding look. "Where did you get this?!" he asked.

She pointed at Phoebe and said, "That woman with too much black stuff round her eyes gave it to me… but look, daddy! Look! That man looks just like Uncle Nico!"


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's note: Thank you so much once again to FrankElza for the continued support. I can't tell you how much your comments mean to me. Really glad you're enjoying this story.**

 **C** **hapter 28**

Kyle turned to look at Tamara beside him in bed. He couldn't help smiling at her funny little snuffly snore that she refused to believe she even did. He'd tried recording it once or twice, to prove it to her, but she'd insisted that he'd doctored the video in some way and he'd been forced to concede that she 'did not snore'. He loved to watch her sleep.

"Mummy's noisy, isn't she?" he whispered to Noah, who was lying on his chest and softly dozing too, "You can back me up on that when you're older, right? Boys together?" He smiled at the thought of his son talking and joining in the banter in future years, and wondered what his little voice was going to sound like?

He laid his hand gently on his son's back and marvelled at the amount of heat he gave off. It was like holding a hot water bottle. His little body was starting to fill out and get heavy too, and his arm was getting a little tired from holding him. Even so, he didn't want to put him down. Holding Noah gave him a sense of 'wholeness' that nothing in his life had ever done before. He didn't think he'd ever get tired of that feeling.

As he lay there, surrounded by the warmth of his son and wife's bodies, his mind began to drift.

 _(Flashback)_

 _13 years ago..._

 _"Kyle, sweetie?" called Jenny, "Can you come here for a minute? ...I think you should take this to bed with you."_

 _He got up from the couch, and approached cautiously, standing a few feet back from her with his eyes fixed on the floor. He didn't like the sound of anything to do with 'bed'. It never meant anything good. What was this about?!_

 _"Don't you want it?" she asked, with a sweet tone to her voice._

 _That made him even more nervous. Jessica had always used that tone of voice when she was going to do something really horrible. His heart started to thump._

 _"Sweetheart" she coaxed, when he didn't even look up, "Look at what I have here?"_

 _Slowly, he raised his eyes to see what she was holding. It was a grey monkey, with soft fleecy fur, and a silly face with a tongue hanging out. He stared at it blankly. What was that thing?!_

 _"This is for you" she said, reaching it out towards him, "His name's Monkey'._

 _He startled, and jumped back. He didn't like its face. He was frightened._

 _"Oh, sweetie" she sighed, crouching down in front of him, "It's just a hot water bottle..." She pulled up a flap to let him see the rubber bottle inside and then lifted the monkey's arms and played with them for a moment. He watched her dubiously from under lowered eyebrows. "He's really warm..." she explained, "He's kind of like a special pillow you can take to bed with you... and he'll keep you warm... It's cold tonight and I can see you shivering."_

 _He looked up at it with a certain trepidation and kept his distance. Why would she want him to be warm?_

 _"Can I feel your forehead, honey?" she asked._

 _He started chewing his lower lip in an anxious way. Why was she asking him? If she wanted to touch him, she'd do it anyway. Was she asking him just to taunt him?_

 _"I'm not gonna hurt you" she explained, " I just want to check if you're hot... You're not well, darling."_

 _So, that was it! The weather had been unusually cold over the last few days and he'd developed a sore throat and sniffles. He'd tried to hide it but she'd noticed anyway and now she was going to punish him. He knew what happened when you got sick. You weren't allowed to be sick!_

 _He glanced up at her with a furrowed brow, and when she reached out to him, he jumped back and gasped out the word 'no'._

 _"No?" she asked, "Was that a 'no', Kyle?"._

 _His eyes widened when he realised what he'd done. She was going to be angry now. He was going to get hit, or maybe worse? His little chest was pumping in and out at an alarming rate. He knew better than to disobey. Why had he done that?!_

 _"Did you say no, Kyle?" she pressed, "You don't want me to feel your forehead?"_

 _He shook his head quickly and stepped forward, eyes fixed on the floor. A position of submission. He knew there was no point in trying to run away. They always caught you when you did, and the punishment was always ten times worse. He clenched his fists as he waited for her to make her move. Hopefully, she wouldn't see how much he was shaking. He didn't want to encourage her._

 _Nothing happened. Jenny just crouched there looking at him. He started to squirm under her gaze._

 _"Kyle" she sighed, eventually opting to sit down cross-legged on the floor and plopping the monkey in her lap, "If you don't want me to touch you, I won't... You only have to say 'no'. Like David told you the other day... Use your words. We'll listen. No-one's ever going to do anything to you that you don't like. Not me, not David, not anyone... Do you understand me?"_

 _He chewed on his lip. He knew that wasn't true, and he didn't like this game, whatever it was. At least Jessica didn't draw it out like this, she just got straight to the hurting part. He'd be neck deep in a bath of cold water by now being yelled at for costing them money and being 'good for nothing'. Jessica always scared him when she behaved like that because he was never too sure if she was going to drown him or not. As he stood here now, he couldn't help wondering what this Jenny woman was going to do to him. In some ways, this whole 'nicey nicey' routine of hers was a lot more unsettling. It would make whatever she did next feel all the worse when it finally did happen._

 _"Sweetheart, listen to me" she coaxed, not continuing until he looked up at her, "All I wanted to do was take my hand..." She held it up, palm out. "See?... This one right here" she showed him, "And do this."_

 _He watched as she held her hand to her own forehead. Demonstrating._

 _"When I do this" she said, "I can tell whether you're sick or not, and whether you need some medicine."_

 _His stomach did a little flip. He didn't want any 'medicine'! He could remember how much it burnt, and how bad it smelled and tasted. He hadn't been able to eat for days afterwards!_

 _"How about this?" she asked, seeing the fear written all across his face, "How about I don't use my hand? How about I let you do it instead?" She got to her feet and went to a kitchen cupboard up high above the kettle. "Ah ha!" she exclaimed when she found what she was looking for, "How about I give you this and you can take your temperature yourself?" She held it out to him. "You're the one in control?"_

 _He furrowed his brow at her. Why was she giving him options? Was she trying to trick him? And what was that thing? Would it hurt him?_

 _"It's just a thermometer" she explained, as she popped the top off and held it out to him again, "You just pop it in your mouth, this metal bit here, you put that under your tongue, and then you wait for it to make a sort of 'beeeep'" She gave him a little smile. "It won't hurt, Kyle" she added, "I promise."_

 _He eyed the little white stick in her hand and then raised his eyes to look at her for a moment. He didn't know what to make of her expression. Her eyes looked soft and almost tearful. Her mouth was drawn into a sad sort of half-smile. No-one had ever looked at him that way before. Except maybe that girl that had carried him to bed with her that night. Jenny kind of reminded him of her. There was a softness there that he wasn't used to. Was it kindness? Could it be love?_

 _'No!' hissed a voice inside his head, making his stomach clench, "You're dirty and disgusting... and BAD. Of course she doesn't love you. You don't deserve to be loved."_

 _"C'mon, Kyle, please?" she pleaded._

 _After a few more moment's hesitation, he_ _reached out a shaky hand and took the stick from her. What other choice did he really have?_

 _His heart thumped as he placed the metal end under his tongue and closed his mouth around it. He stared at the floor and his eyes stung with tears as he waited for the bad thing to happen. He half-expected it to heat up and burn him. Jessica had made him put a hot spoon in his mouth once, as punishment for biting one of the clients. She'd heated it on the stove and made him put it in his mouth himself. He'd learnt not to fight back that day._

 _He jumped a little when the thermometer beeped and looked up in surprise when he realised it hadn't hurt him._

 _"It's okay, sweetie" said Jenny, as she held her hand out for it, "Can I see?"_

 _He pulled it out of his mouth as quickly as possible and handed it to her, almost as though it might explode if he handled it any longer. His chest was heaving so fast now he felt dizzy._

 _"38.2" she sighed, as she climbed to her feet and went back to the cupboard to get out a bottle of medicine. It was children's paracetamol. Strawberry flavoured. She came back with the bottle, a spoon, and a glass of water, and knelt down in front of him again. "Okay, Kyle" she said with a little smile, "We need to get that temperature down so I have some nice medicine here for you..."_

 _He glanced with fear at the bottle and then the spoon. Without meaning to, he started to back away, his mouth clamped shut as his breathing kicked up another gear. All he wanted was to run and hide._

 _"Sweetie, sweetie?" coaxed Jenny, "It's nothing bad! It's just paracetamol! It'll make you feel better?"_

 _He stopped when he backed into the kitchen table. His whole body was shaking. Why was she letting him think he could get away? Why wasn't she following him?! Jessica would simply have held him down and forced the spoon in his mouth._

 _"Look, Kyle" she said, pouring some onto the spoon, "What if I take some first?"_

 _He was surprised when he saw her put the pink liquid in her own mouth and smile as she swallowed it down. He didn't understand why she would punish herself... Unless it was some sort of trick?_

 _"Do you want to sniff what's in the bottle?" asked Jenny as she held it out to him with another spoon. "It smells like strawberries?!"_

 _He'd only tasted strawberries for the first time yesterday so he was intrigued to know that the pink liquid smelt like those red squashy things. Maybe he would try? Maybe this woman could be trusted._

 _After all, she hadn't actually done anything to hurt him... not yet anyway._

 _He took a tentative step towards her and cautiously took the bottle in his hand, before bringing his nose to the bottle. It was a strong sweet smell. Not exactly like the red things, but not unpleasant either._

 _"Nice, huh?" she asked with a smile._

 _He studied her for a moment. He couldn't see anything cruel or mocking in her expression. Not like Jessica. He'd always known when she was setting him up for a fall. She'd act all sweet and then do something truly vicious. If it was Jessica, she probably would have switched the bottle and he'd have found himself drinking drain cleaner. But this woman seemed different..._

 _He was ill but she didn't seem angry with him? Not even a little bit... He really didn't understand._

 _"Can you just try a little?" asked Jenny, "It'll help your throat, and make you feel better... I promise."_

 _He nodded and reluctantly reached for the spoon. He didn't know why Jenny wanted him to have whatever this stuff was but he wanted to keep her happy. She was looking up at him now like that girl had looked at him that night. That night he'd had a 'mother'. If only Jenny would keep looking at him like that, then maybe he wouldn't get punished after all?_

 _...Unless this really was the punishment?_

 _His hands were shaking as he poured the pink liquid onto the spoon and he struggled not to spill it. With one last glance at Jenny, he shoved it in his mouth. He'd soon know if it was something bad._

 _"There, that wasn't so horrible, was it?" smiled Jenny._

 _He screwed his face up a little before letting out the breath he'd been holding. It wasn't exactly the 'strawberry' flavour he'd been promised, but then again, his mouth wasn't burning or foaming, and he wasn't choking for breath... so it looked like he hadn't been poisoned. Something to be grateful for!_

 _He looked up at her. It hadn't tasted nice... but... but was that it?! Was that all she was going to do?! Didn't she realise that he'd gotten himself ill? That he was sick?! Didn't she see that he deserved to be punished?!_

 _"Right then, little man" she said, relief apparent in her tone as she slowly got to her feet, "I think it's time we got you to bed." She picked up the glass of water and handed it to him. "You go and get changed and brush your teeth... and I'll be in in a minute to tuck you in."_

 _He didn't need to be told twice. He was being dismissed with the most minimal of punishments. If that strawberry stuff was the worst thing they did to him then he could definitely cope with that!_

 _He scampered down the hall and got changed as fast as he could. He didn't like being naked even for a moment. He brushed his teeth, actively avoiding looking in the mirror, and then ran to his room. He glanced for a moment at the closet door but resisted the urge to go and curl up in there. He knew that Jenny didn't like it when he did that, so he climbed into bed. He didn't want to antagonise her, not when he'd gotten off so lightly! He wondered what Jessica would say if she knew he hadn't even been beaten? That he hadn't been appropriately punished for being ill?_

 _"Okey dokey!" said Jenny, as she walked in with the monkey under her arm, "Now... I know you didn't seem too keen on taking this little guy to bed with you earlier... but I was hoping you might have changed your mind?"_

 _He quickly nodded his head. He still wasn't sure about the monkey, but he just wanted her to go away and leave him alone. The more she hung around, the more chance there was of her getting angry with him. He might sniffle or cough and she'd realise she'd been too lenient. There was time for an ice bath yet!_

 _"You do want him?" smiled Jenny._

 _He nodded again, and held his arms out for him._

 _"Okay" she laughed, as she handed him over, and then tucked them both in. "Now, you need to take good care of him" she said, "Because monkey's very lonely and he needs a nice boy to keep him safe and give him lots of cuddles."_

 _He nodded up at her. He knew the monkey was just an inanimate object_ _and she was talking nonsense, but he was willing to humour her if it meant he could sleep tonight without a bruised backside._

 _"Okay... well, I'll let you get some sleep then" she said, as she turned off the main light at the door, "Maybe you can show David your new friend when he gets home from his trip tomorrow... and maybe you can pick a name for him too? He probably wants a nicer name than Monkey?"_

 _He nodded at her again and watched as she shut the door._

 _As soon as she was gone he shoved Monkey out of the bed and onto the floor. He didn't want him there. He didn't want him anywhere near him!_

 _He rolled over and turned his back on him. With a little huff, he closed his eyes and did his best to slow his beating heart, at least enough to go to sleep. He was still agitated and anxious. His little body felt tight and tense. Part of him wondered why he'd gotten off so lightly, and it made him feel uneasy. He didn't understand the rules in this house at all!_

 _Time ticked by and still he couldn't sleep. He just couldn't relax enough... and weirdly he felt like someone was watching him. He felt eyes boring into the middle of his back._

 _Eventually, he gave in and rolled back over onto his side._

 _"What?!" he rasped, through unused scratchy vocal chords._

 _Monkey just stared back at him, silently judging him._

 _He had big black shiny eyes with leathery pieces of material to form his eyelids, and he had a triangle of soft leather forming his nose. His mouth was pulled into a lop-sided smile that made him seem a little sad in a way and his tongue was hanging out of his mouth. His fur was soft and fluffy. He was kind of cute, in an ugly sort of way._

 _Kyle stared at him for a long while, leaving him there on the floor, but gradually he began to feel guilty. He couldn't help thinking about what Jenny had said. Maybe Monkey really was lonely? Maybe he was just as lost and lonely as him? Maybe he did want a new name and somewhere to belong? After all, someone had given 'The Boy' a new name when he'd come here, and a place to call home, so maybe he could do the same for him? Maybe Monkey needed to not be seen as an object just as much as he did?_

 _"Do... do you want a new name?" he whispered, as he leaned out of the bed and lifted him gently by one arm. "Is that what you want?" he asked in a breathless whisper._

 _The Monkey seemed to smile at him, and even though he knew it was impossible, he took it as a yes. He rolled onto his back, putting his arm around the monkey, as he stared at the ceiling. He needed to give this some serious thought. He'd never had the responsibility of naming anything or anyone before. He didn't want to choose a bad name._

 _The problem was he didn't have a large bank of names to choose from... and most of the names he did know sent shivers down his spine... No, this had to be something good. He ran ideas through his head, from 'Silver' for his fur, to 'Happy' for his smile, but then he thought he wanted him to have a real 'name', not a description..._

 _Then suddenly a name popped into his head and he smiled. He wasn't sure where it had come from, but somehow he thought that it fit, and the word itself made him feel happy. He didn't know why. He turned back over and pulled the monkey in against his chest, hugging his arms around him to keep him close._

 _"I choose a name for you" he said, in his hoarse little whisper, "But only me and you know it, 'kay?"_

 _The monkey seemed to smile its agreement._

 _With that, he whispered the name in the monkey's ear._

 _"You like it?" he asked when he pulled back a little to look at him._

 _The monkey conveyed a look of pride and he knew he'd chosen well._

 _"Knew you would" he smiled._

 _They lay in silence for a long time as he listened to Jenny finishing up in the bathroom and making her way to her room. He wanted to make sure she'd gone to bed before he made his move._

 _'Click' He heard the door to Jenny's room close._

 _"Okay" he whispered, picking the monkey up under his arm and dragging the blanket off his bed. "I show you where I sleep" he whispered to him, as he opened the door to the closet, "Safer than 'bed'... Bed is bad... In here, I listen... I know when they come for me..."_

 _He curled up on the floor with the monkey nestled under his arm and the blanket pulled over both of them. He curled the soft fur in his fingers and soaked up the heat of the monkey's plump body. "You listen too" he said, holding him close._

 _He let out a heavy sigh. He was exhausted. When he felt a tickle on his face, he brought his hand up to wipe his eyes, and was surprised to realise that he'd begun to cry. The other day with David had been the first time he'd cried in years. There hadn't been any point. But this? This was almost like a wall breaking down. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and soaking into the animal's fur. It was a strange feeling of release... The only time he remembered feeling like this was when he'd slept in that girl's bed. Like he'd finally found the 'something' he'd been missing all his life. Like a cold gaping hole inside him was somehow being filled with warmth. Warmth wasn't something he was familiar with._

 _He cried himself to sleep that night, his new friend in his arms. And for the first time, in as long as he could remember, when he woke up screaming from his nightmare there was someone there to hold him._

 _(End flashback)_

"Kyle?" said Tamara, shaking his arm a little, "Kyle, you're crying, baby..."

'Huh?!" he exclaimed, opening his eyes and sitting up a little straighter. He glanced over and saw that she'd put Noah in his cot. "What's going on?" he asked.

"You were dreaming" she said, as she wiped at his tears with her thumb, "And you were talking in your sleep"

"Was I?" he asked, wiping at his tears with his own hand. He looked a little confused. "What was I saying?" he asked with a yawn.

"You kept saying 'me'" she supplied, "But over and over 'me, me'...And some other words I couldn't understand? Something like 'family'... but more like 'faaaaa maaaal ay', like really slow... You sounded so weird!"

He snorted. He didn't know why he would keep saying 'me' over and over, or 'family' for that matter. Unless it was nerves about asking Jenny and David about taking their surname...

"What were you dreaming about?" asked Tamara.

"I uh..." he began, but already the details were hazy, "I dunno... I think I was dreaming about when I first went to live with Jenny and David?"

"Was it bad?" she asked, concern written all over her face.

"Yes" he said, running his hand through his hair and smiling sadly, "I mean... no... Both, I guess?"

She looked a little confused.

"I was just so messed up" he said, turning to look at Noah in his cot, "I mean... I didn't know how to be someone's son or how to... to be held... I didn't want anyone to touch me but at the same time I was just aching for some contact... a touch that was safe... that didn't hurt... and I don't know how... but they understood that. They got that..."

"Jenny and David?" she asked.

He nodded and gave a little sigh. "I don't know where I'd be right now if it wasn't for them... Definitely not here... not a dad... not a husband..."

"You don't know that" she argued,

"Yes, I do" he shrugged, "At best I'd be in a mental institution, at worst prison... I mean... They took a really really damaged little kid, a kid who was just broken.. and... and they fixed him. They taught him how to love."

"Well" said Tamara, lying down beside him with her head on his shoulder, "Guess I'm glad we're taking their name then."

"Yeah, me too" he said.

"You told Heath yet?" she asked.


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's note: once again, a massive thank you to FrankElza for your support on this story. Without you, it wouldn't have got past the first couple of chapters. The last chapter held a few clues, this one is going to move stuff along at a bit of a faster pace. Hope you enjoy it! xx**

* * *

 **Chapter 29**

 **i.**

"Sit down and have a beer" said Kyle, nodding at Heath in an insistent sort of way as he set down a bottle for him. "You've done enough for me the last couple of weeks. The least I can do is shout you some lunch".

Heath shook his head at him and gave him a dubious look. He wasn't so sure he was ready to come back to work. "Are you sure about this, mate? I mean, I can cover a few more days, no problem…" he said.

Tamara had told him what Nate had said when they'd got back from the hospital yesterday. They were meant to be looking out for him and making sure that he didn't get too distressed. The whole episode with the self-harming had them all pretty concerned about him and the hospital had only allowed him to come home if he was kept under close supervision. Coming back to work so soon seemed a bit premature, especially because it meant dealing with the general public, and putting himself in the line of fire as far as the paparazzi were concerned. Heath had decided to take an extended leave of absence from his work in the city to make sure that he could look after things for him here. It was important to him to make sure that he was okay.

"Sit!" said Kyle, refusing to take no for an answer and pushing Heath out from behind the bar with a little smile. "You're taking today off!"

Heath reluctantly gave in and slid onto one of the stools on the outside of the bar. Kyle pushed the beer towards him across the counter and handed him a pizza menu.

"Don't worry!" he said, giving him a sarcastic little shake of the head, "You can keep an eye on me from right there if you have to!"

Heath gave a little sigh and rubbed his face in both hands. He was exhausted. The last few weeks had really taken their toll on him and he'd been doing his best to hide that from everyone, but especially Kyle. He looked up at him again with tired eyes.

"Thanks, mate" he said, "I could use a sit down."

Kyle leaned on the bar, staring down at the countertop for a moment, as he tried to summon the courage to say what he needed to say. He took a deep breath and blew it out again.

"I need to talk to you about something…" he said.

He could see that Heath was sitting up straighter now and looking at him with that worried expression that had become oh so familiar over the last while. This was going to be hard and he wasn't sure how he was going to take it.

"Um… first off... I… I need you to know that I really appreciate everything that you've done for me and Tamara the last few weeks…" he continued, "I don't think either of us would have got through this without you… and I really mean that, Heath. You and Bianca have been incredible! Especially since..."

"It's okay, mate…" said Heath, giving him a nervous little smile. "It's what families do for each other, isn't it?"

Kyle's smile faded a little. "Well, that's the thing" he said, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck, "I uh... I want you to know that I... I love you like a brother…"

"You big sook" teased Heath, in a desperate attempt to break the tension.

Kyle smirked a little in reply. "You gonna let me say what I have to say?" he asked.

"Yeah, mate, go on" said Heath, with an apologetic tone. He could see that he was nervous.

"Well... I guess..." he continued, chewing anxiously on his lower lip, "I mean... we're not really brothers… are we? ...I mean… we are and we're not…"

Heath looked a little hurt but he just nodded for him to continue.

Kyle could see the expression on his face already and couldn't help feeling bad. He didn't want to upset him. He kept opening and closing his mouth as he searched for the right words. "God! Why is this so hard?!" he sighed.

"It's okay, mate, just say it" replied Heath, "I'm big and ugly enough, I can take it."

He gave a little half-smile. "I mean... I guess..." he struggled on, "What... what I'm trying to say is that I can't be a Braxton anymore… and I think you know that." He glanced up at him, looking a little guilty. "Me and Tamara have had a talk and we've decided to change our name to Summers… I'm gonna be… um… Kyle Summers."

Heath began to smile a little. "And you thought I'd be upset?" he asked.

Kyle nodded and gave a little shrug, staring down at the countertop again and finding it hard to meet his eyes. "I don't want you to feel like I'm rejecting you or something…"

Heath smiled and reached across the bar to squeeze Kyle's shoulder. "Mate… You don't think I understand why you're doing it? I mean, you didn't just come home one day and say 'I don't want your surname anymore!', did ya?!"

Kyle smiled a relieved smile and picked up his beer to clink with Heath's but before he got a chance to, Heath had stood up on the stool and put him in a headlock.

"I don't care what you want to call yourself" he laughed, as he jokingly gave him a noogie.

"Get off, Heath!" he grunted back at him, as he tried to wriggle out of his hold.

"Nah mate" chuckled Heath, as he messed up his hair, "You might not be a Braxton… but you're always gonna be my annoying little brother! Which means I reserve the right to do this! ...You got that?!"

Kyle laughed, glancing in embarrassment at the few customers that had stopped eating and were staring at them. All they could see was two barmen mucking about and giggling like schoolkids.

"Get off!" he pleaded again, before pulling away and smoothing his hair with his hand. "Look what you've done!" he scolded him mockingly, as he righted the bottles of cordial that he'd made him knock over. "You're gonna scare the customers!" he said.

Heath turned and looked around the restaurant. It was the morning lull, just before the lunchtime rush, so there were only about ten customers and a couple of staff, but he was right, they were all staring. He laughed and gave Kyle a little wink. Standing up on the footrest of his stool, he pointed at him theatrically, with a huge silly grin plastered across his face.

"This is my little brother!" he shouted, before turning and razzling Kyle's hair again, "...and his name is Kyle Summers!"

The customers all looked at each other, shrugging and looking noticeably confused, but soon returned to their plates of food. Heath turned back to him with a self-satisfied smile and sat back down. "I'm really proud of how you're handling all this, mate" he said, quietly this time, as he lifted his beer for a toast.

Kyle lifted his own beer and clinked it off Heath's, still looking a little embarrassed, but feeling incredibly relieved.

"Kyle Summers" he repeated, staring off into the distance with a little smile. "I think I'm okay with that."

ii.

Andy led Josh in the door of Angelo's, looking around to see if he could spot Kyle, and headed for the bar. Matt was standing behind the bar polishing glasses, and Heath was sitting chatting with him and finishing off his last slice of pizza.

"Hey!" said Matt, seeing the two boys walking towards the bar. "You two here for lunch?" he called out to them with a big friendly smile. He didn't see much of Josh these days, now that they were doing such different things, and he kind of missed him.

"No mate, have you seen Kyle?" asked Andy, looking between Heath and Matt with a serious expression. "Tamara said that he was working today?"

"Uh… yeah" said Heath, giving Andy a quizzical look. "He's out in the kitchen… I can go get him." He got up to go and look for him and then thought better of it. He turned to face Andy again, and said, "What's this about? I don't want anyone upsetting him… not today."

Josh nodded, agreeing with Heath that Kyle didn't need any unnecessary stress at the moment, and thinking that maybe it would be better to just let Heath sort it. "Can we talk to you for a minute then?" he asked, "It's about Phoebe."

"What about Phoebe?" said Kyle, suddenly appearing behind them. "What's she done now?" he asked sounding a little depressed.

"Mate, I think…" said Andy, shrugging a little and glancing at Heath apologetically. He didn't have a choice now, he was going to have to tell him the truth, whether it upset him or not. "I think she was the one that tipped the journos off about the funeral" he said.

Kyle walked over and sat down on one of the stools.

"How do you know?" he asked.

"Uh… well… um..." stammered Josh.

He knew that Phoebe had been the one to steal the laptop and it was because of her that this whole thing had blown up in the press the way that it had. He also knew that she'd insisted it had been an accident and that she hadn't intended for it to happen. For her to do this so deliberately just seemed like such a heavy blow, especially given the history between her and Kyle.

"Look… Andy saw her" he continued, "With that journalist… and… I'm really sorry, but… he… he saw him give her an envelope full of cash. Like she was getting paid."

"It looked seriously suss..." said Andy, "If I hadn't known he was a journo, I would have sworn he was her dealer."

Kyle nodded, staring at the ground, and gave a heavy sigh. They all stared at him waiting for a reaction but after a while when nothing had happened, Heath walked over and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Mate, you okay?" he asked.

Kyle looked up and blew out a big breath. He turned to face Andy and Josh.

"Thanks for letting me know" he said, as he hopped off the stool. He lifted a couple of menus off the bar and put them under his arm. "I think I owe you two a couple of pizzas." he said, "I mean... I really appreciate your support at the funeral... Heath and I both do."

He motioned with his head to Andy, for them to follow him over to one of the booth tables, and set the menus down. He shook his head at himself when he realised that two menus weren't necessary. It was really just force of habit, but sometimes he forgot about Josh.

The two brothers sat down, looking a little confused, but not really wanting to argue with him. If this was how he was choosing to cope with it, then so be it. Everyone was walking on eggshells around him, and Heath had thrown Andy a look to say that he should cooperate.

"Beer?" asked Kyle, setting down cutlery for them.

"Uh yeah, mate, that'd be good… but you don't have to do this…" said Andy, looking at him with concern, "It was no big deal... I mean... we were happy to help out."

"It was a big deal to me" said Kyle.

"Yeah, I know… but we're sort of family" said Josh.

"Yeah" said Kyle, with a bitter little laugh. Why was everyone trying to claim him as family all of a sudden? It was nice, but in a strange way it made him feel even more lost.

"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Josh. He could sense Kyle's uneasiness. "What Phoebe did..." he ventured, "It was horrible..."

"I'm fine" he answered stiffly, "I'll send someone over to take your pizza orders in a moment"

With that, he turned and disappeared off towards the kitchen.

"Is he really okay?" asked Josh, as soon as he'd gone. "He doesn't seem okay to me."

Heath appeared at their table and squeezed in beside Andy. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, breathing heavily and clenching his jaw. "You're sure it was the same guy? The journo from the funeral?"

Andy nodded. "Yeah, definitely the same guy… even wearing the same jacket."

"I'm gonna kill her!" said Heath, getting to his feet and storming out.

Andy watched him go and then looked at Josh in a startled sort of way. "I'm going after him!" he said, as he got up and ran out the door.

 **iii.**

 **"** What sort of monster are you?!" roared Heath.

He was wide-eyed and snarling and the veins were standing out in the side of his neck. He'd certainly whipped himself up into a frenzy on the way out to the caravan park and he'd been lucky not to crash the car on several occasions.

"Why would you do this to Kyle?!" he shouted, as he walked towards her van.

She was sitting outside the van on a deckchair with a couple of young surfers. They had an ice box with a selection of beers chilling on ice and a little mini barbecue going. Phoebe looked up in shock as she saw and heard Heath approaching, and jumped out of the deckchair.

"What do you want, Heath?!" she asked in a frightened sounding way.

"It was my little brother's funeral, Pheebs!" he shouted in her face, towering over her and forcing her to take a couple of steps backwards. "My little, murdered brother!" he spat at her, with hurt and anger in his eyes. "What kind of person are you?!"

"I don't… I don't know what you're talking about" she stammered, eyeing the two boys that she'd been sitting with, and putting her hands up as though she thought he was going to hit her. "Please don't hit me, Heath!" she whined in a pitiful sort of way.

"I'm not gonna hit you!" he growled at her, as he punched the wall of the van beside her instead, "You'd probably love that! Then you could sell some story about being brutalised by a Braxton to the papers too!"

He stepped away from her and glared with pure hatred.

"How much did you get for it, Pheebs?! How much was my little brother worth?!" he demanded.

"I don't know what you're talking about" she said, very unconvincingly.

He looked around for her bag and saw it lying on the ground. He went for it and tore it open, reaching inside for the envelope of cash.

"Hey! Give that back!" she shouted, moving towards him and reaching for the envelope in his hand. "That's mine! That's all I have!"

He looked at the envelope and did a rough calculation based on the thickness of the wad of cash.

"What? $500?!" he asked, with his face screwed up in a look of pure revulsion. "$500 to betray Kyle? That's it?!"

Her face reddened. She didn't want to tell him it was only $400!

"Do you have any idea how hard yesterday was for him?!" he asked, "How much all of this is hurting him?!"

"They would have found out anyway" she argued.

"You're disgusting!" he snarled at her, "You know that?! ...I mean, I've done some things I'm not proud of, but I'd never sell my friends out like this..."

"You didn't leave me a choice!" she snapped back at him.

He laughed in exasperation and shook his head at her. "I really hope it was worth it Pheebs!" he said, "I really hope it was..."

With that, he ripped open the envelope, and threw the money up into the air.

"Nooo!" she squealed, as the air filled with multi-coloured notes.

"I hope you choke on every cent!" he said to her as the notes fluttered down around him.

He watched as she scrambled frantically on the ground, trying to pick up all the notes as they started to blow away, and he shook his head at how pathetic she seemed.

The two boys she'd been sitting with had just been sitting there with mouths hanging open, watching the drama unfold. Suddenly they were both on their knees gathering the money off the ground and giggling like schoolgirls.

Heath turned to leave, just as Andy's car screeched to a halt in front of him. Andy jumped out, wide-eyed and worried looking.

"Don't Heath!" he pleaded, "She's not worth it!"

"I know that" growled Heath, stalking towards him with a look of disdain on his face. "She's just a money hungry little bitch" he said, glancing back at her as she clutched the scattered notes to her chest. "…and I hope she burns in hell."

 **iv.**

"Hey baby" said Tamara, wheeling the pram across the floor of Angelo's with a big smile on her face. "Jenny and David are just parking the car."

"Hey" he said, sounding a little flat.

He gave her a light kiss on the cheek and took the pram off her, wheeling it over to one of the booth tables, and motioning for her to sit down. He'd been sitting with Josh when he'd seen her come in.

"I'm just gonna help Josh get downstairs" he said, "I'll be back in a minute."

She watched him lead Josh out of the restaurant and wondered at the slumped and tired way that he was carrying himself. He'd been quite upbeat when he'd left the house a few hours ago, at least as upbeat as he could be at the moment, but something seemed to have changed drastically over the last couple of hours.

A few minutes later, he reappeared with Jenny and David in tow, and led them both over to the booth table. Jenny and David sat down on one side, and Tamara nursed Noah on the other. Kyle went to get one of the other waitresses to come and take an order, before slipping into the seat beside Tamara.

"We have something that we'd like to ask you." said Tamara, giving her 'in-laws' a gentle smile and then looking at Kyle a little excitedly.

"Why don't you ask Jenny and David?" she said to Kyle, giving his hand a little squeeze and smiling at him encouragingly.

He gave her a nervous smile and nodded his head slowly.

"I um… I…" he began, but quickly found himself lost for words.

"It's okay, sweetie" said Jenny, "Just take your time."

He gave her a little smile and then blew out a big breath. He suddenly felt quite anxious about this conversation. He was pretty sure that they wouldn't mind him taking their name, but he did have his doubts. That feeling of worthlessness sometimes overwhelmed him, and on some level the thought had crept in that they might be ashamed to have him as their son. He tried to tell himself that he was being irrational. He knew they loved him, but Phoebe's betrayal had dented his confidence again. He couldn't help wondering if he could really trust anyone. If someone like Phoebe could do something like this, then anyone could. He'd given her his heart. He'd trusted her! Had their time together meant so little to her? Had she always been waiting to sell him out? Maybe that was just the way life was? At least for him. Maybe he was someone that people treated badly because he deserved it? Maybe Simon and Jessica had been right? Maybe he was just too disgusting and dirty to really love?

Maybe Jenny and David were going to laugh in his face?

He glanced at Tamara again, and she squeezed his hand.

He stared down at the table, unable to meet any of their eyes. What if the answer was no?

"I… um..." he began again, before giving a little cough to clear his throat, "Um... we were talking… um... Tamara and me… and we were wondering... if maybe it would be okay if…"

He glanced up at them for a moment as they gazed at him with love and kindness in their eyes. They were patiently waiting for him to ask what he wanted to ask, just like they had when he was that shy and scared little boy.

"Would... Would it be okay if we changed our last name to Summers?" he finally blurted, words streaming out on top of each other, "I mean, I'll understand if you... If you'd prefer we didn't... It's okay... I mean, it's your name... You might not want someone like me..."

"Sweetheart?" said Jenny, reaching out and placing her hand on top of his.

He looked up at her, face burning red.

"I'm pretty sure I speak for both of us..." said Jenny, as she turned to look at David.

"We would love that!" he jumped in.

"Why would you ever think we wouldn't want that?" asked Jenny, "We love you, of course we want that!"

"You have no idea how happy you've made us!" smiled David. He had to take off his glasses to wipe at the happy tears that were rolling down his cheeks. "Of course you can take our name!" he said, reaching across the table and putting his hand on top of Kyle and Jenny's clasped hands.

"Me too?" asked Tamara.

"Of course, you too!" chuckled David, "Welcome to the family!"

"And the bub too" laughed Jenny.

Kyle smiled and gave a big sigh, shuddering a little with the relief of it all.

"I'm gonna keep Kyle" he said, giving them both a nervous little smile. "So I'm Kyle Summers from now on… Are you sure you're okay with that?"

"Kyle Summers!" said Jenny, squealing a little excitedly, and then smiling lovingly at both Tamara and Noah. She wiped at the tears that were now streaming down her face too.

"I can't believe how much has happened in just the last week… We've got our boy back… and now we have a son, a daughter, and a gorgeous little grandson!" She turned to look at David with big teary eyes and smiled the biggest smile possible. "Just look at our little family, David! Look at them!"

Tamara held Noah out to let Jenny take him.

"I guess… This is Noah Summers then" she said, smiling as Jenny took him gently in her arms.

Two very happy grandparents gazed down at the snuggly little baby in Jenny's arms, and David gently stroked the hair on Noah's head.

"Noah Summers" said David, shaking his head and looking up at Kyle with fatherly pride. "I don't think I've ever been so happy in my life."

 **v.**

"So where did all this money come from?" asked Emerson, as he peered at Phoebe with suspicion. "All this money that Heath Braxton supposedly threw around the place? Where did it come from?"

"It's my money" huffed Phoebe, "It doesn't matter where it came from! Heath Braxton took it out of my bag and threw it around the place. I mean… Isn't that theft?!"

"Well, not if he didn't take it from you." said Emerson, giving her a very unsympathetic look and folding his arms in a defensive way. "It doesn't sound much like theft to me… maybe wilful damage of property but even that…"

"I lost half my money!" she whined. "It blew away and people just took it!"

"Sounds like you were a little careless then, Miss Nicholson!" he said, smirking at her. "Like people who leave their laptops lying around, maybe you should be more careful about where you leave your things and the company that you keep."

"That's not the same thing!" she growled at him, flushing red in the face. "And I owned up to that!"

"Eventually" said Emerson, raising a disapproving eyebrow at her.

He didn't like this girl and he wasn't making too many bones about showing it. Stealing from your housemate was a pretty low thing to do but selling that story to the newspapers had been particularly cruel. They all knew what Kyle Braxton was going through and the sexual abuse of minors wasn't something to be joked about. Making money off the back of it was a pretty revolting and underhanded thing to do, especially given the close relationship that she was supposed to have had with the victim. She struck him as a particularly cold fish.

"Well, I want Heath Braxton charged!" she said, glaring at him angrily and stamping her foot. "Are you telling me that you're just going to let him threaten me and steal my money?!"

"Again, Miss Nicholson. By your own account, it doesn't appear that Heath Braxton stole any money." He narrowed his eyes at her and said, "What I'm more interested in is where you acquired $400 in the first place… Managed to 'misplace' someone else's property for them, have you?"

"What?! No!" snapped Phoebe, but the reddening of her face gave her guilt away. "It's my money… I uh… I just took it out of my account!" she said, realising what a stupid lie that was the second that she'd said it. She wasn't sure if there was anything illegal about selling information to the press but for a moment she'd thought that this was a better story. Immediately, she could see her mistake.

"Oh I see!" said Emerson in a sarcastic tone, as he gave her a knowing smile. "So if I were to check your bank account, I'd see a withdrawal for $400, would I?"

"Uh… I... uh…" she stammered, unsure of what to say.

"No? …Didn't think so!" said Emerson, shaking his head at her in disgust. "I think the judge dealing with your case might be interested to hear about this $400. If I were you, Miss Nicholson, I wouldn't be leaving town anytime soon!"

"Why am I being treated like the criminal here?!" she whined at him. "I came to report a theft!"

"And as far as I can see, you're the only thief here!" said Emerson. "I expect you to provide me with documentation as to where you acquired this $400 of yours within the next 24 hours…"

Phoebe nodded at him with a scared look on her face and turned to leave. What on earth was she going to do now, she wondered. She'd made such a mess of things and maybe now she wouldn't even get to go to Melbourne. As she walked out through the door of the police station, she took out her phone to call her dad. If anyone could fix this for her, he could. She pressed call on the screen but the call went straight to voicemail.

"Dad, it's Phoebe! I'm in trouble… Can you…" she started to say but she was suddenly distracted by a group of worried looking people walking towards her out of the darkness. "…Call me back?" she managed to say before hanging up and staring at the group as they passed her by.

She had to do a double take as she watched them pass. Among them was a man that she could have sworn was Kyle. He looked a little different, with a pair of black frame glasses and a style of clothing that Kyle would never wear in a million years, but he was unmistakably of Kyle's build, with a sallow complexion, and the same bone structure. He had a confidence and a way of walking that was different to Kyle too, and he walked straight past her without a second glance. She stood there with her mouth hanging open and watched in shock as she saw them disappear through the doorway.

She looked at her phone again, and scrolled to Kyle's number, before pressing call. It rang and she waited…


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's note: Thanks once again to all you lovely folk who are reading, but especially to the peeps who have taken the time to comment. You have no idea how much your reviews mean to me. So, thank you to FrankElza and Braxton54 for your comments on the previous chapter, and to Zoe-eoZ for jumping onboard :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 30**

Kyle picked up his buzzing phone for the sixth time in the last hour and gazed at the name 'Phoebe' as it flashed up on the screen. He felt like his whole body was weighed down with an enormous weight and it actually hurt to take in a breath. He was just so incredibly tired. Up until today, he had been angry with her, and he probably would have answered the phone and given her an earful. Tonight, he just didn't have the energy, or even the desire, to tell her off. There was no point. She was a lost cause.

Josh's revelation had simply made him sad. So very very sad! It felt like some grey veil had fallen down over the world and everything seemed just that little bit duller today.

He looked at the name on the screen again and he wondered who this person was. Was this really the woman that he had once wanted to marry?! Was she really the person he'd wanted to start a family with?! Why had he not seen her for the cold and uncaring person that she obviously was?!

For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to think about his little unborn babies, and he realised with a sickening jolt to his stomach that part of him was actually a little relieved that they hadn't made it into the world. Phoebe was clearly a terrible person and he would not have wanted his poor little children to be saddled with a mother like her. He felt awful for even thinking it. He was horrified at himself for even having the thought, but it was the truth.

Phoebe would have put herself first at all times and God knows what kind of life they might have had! Especially a child with serious health problems. He figured that she would have done a runner at the first sign of trouble but that might not have been the worst thing. He knew that he would have cared for them, and loved them, no matter what, but the thought had crossed his mind that Phoebe might have just decided to cut him out for spite. Then their poor little baby might have been all alone in the world with no-one to really care for them. Just like he had been. They might have had a father who didn't have access, and a mother who didn't give a damn.

The thought of them ending up in foster care, maybe with people like the Hames', made him shudder.

'Phoebe' calling for the eighth time!? He gave a heavy sigh, and cancelled the call yet again, shoving the phone back in his pocket. He didn't know what she wanted, and he didn't care! He looked up from wiping the counter top and gave Heath the least convincing smile possible. He couldn't hide his sadness. Even the chat with the Summers today hadn't lifted his spirits.

"Everything okay?" asked Heath, looking at him with concern, and thinking what a stupid question that was under the circumstances. "You know I can take over if you want to go home?"

"I gave you the day off Heath! You weren't supposed to spend it sitting here, staring at me!" Kyle shouted over the music, shaking his head at him disapprovingly. "I'm fine. Just go!"

Heath shook his head and held up his empty beer bottle, motioning towards the fridge for Kyle to get him another. "I promised Tam that I'd keep an eye on you!" he shouted, giving him a mischievous grin. "She may be small, but Tam can be pretty scary when she wants to be… I'm not breaking any promises!"

The phone rang again and he took it out of his pocket with an exasperated sigh. Heath gave him a quizzical look so he held it up so he could see the name flashing on the screen. He shook his head in disgust and grimaced a little.

"Just turn it off! said Heath, reaching for the phone and powering it off for him. He looked up at Kyle who was now staring off into the distance with big sad eyes, and said, "Mate! She's not worth getting upset over!"

 **ii.**

Kyle crept quietly into the bed beside Tamara, pulling in close to her so they were spooning, and planted a gentle little kiss on the skin of her shoulder. She stirred a little and smiled, reaching for his hand, and pulling his arm around her waist. She interlaced her fingers with his and turned her head slightly so he could kiss her.

"I'm glad you're home" she murmured, with a little smile, before turning her head back onto the pillow to go to sleep.

He breathed in the sweet mango smell of her body lotion and rested his head on the pillow, giving a gentle sigh, and thinking how lucky he was that this was the woman that he had married.

Tamara was warm and caring, and the most kind and supportive person that he knew. She was an amazing mother to little Noah and he was incredibly proud to say that she was his wife. She had stood by him through this whole ordeal without even a wobble of doubt. She'd put up with his breakdowns, his endless crying, his tantrums, and even this latest episode of self-harm. This wasn't what she'd signed up for when she'd married him, but she'd accepted everything without question. Even changing her name, and that of her baby! As he gazed at her messy bun of shiny dark hair, and the rise and fall of her ribcage as she breathed, he wondered how he had managed to find someone as wonderful as her.

More to the point, why did she want to be with him?!

Lying there beside her now, cuddled in close to her and feeling the warmth of her body against his, he thought how cold and lonely so much of his life had been. He'd been robbed of physical comfort for all of his early years, lying on a cold damp floor, with no-one to hold him or tell him that things would be okay. Affection and comfort like this would have seemed so alien to him then

It had taken him a very long time to accept physical contact as something that didn't have to be threatening, but that could sometimes be pleasant, or maybe even welcome. Letting anyone touch him had been a particularly difficult hurdle to jump. The Summers had struggled with it, because it had taken years for him to accept that they weren't going to hurt him. For him, every touch had held a threat of sexual violence. He'd viewed every hug or pat on the knee with deep suspicion, and he'd flinched endlessly. He'd been terribly confused about things for a very long time.

The first time that he'd summoned the courage to be intimate with a girl, he'd been almost seventeen, and it had been nothing short of horrendous. He couldn't exactly say that it was when he'd lost his virginity, because that had been stolen from him long ago, although it had been the first time that it had been consensual. The whole experience had awoken so many feelings of shame and disgust in him, and made him feel like that unwashed little boy again. Or worse still, like one of those men that haunted his dreams.

The girl had been a friend from school, although it wasn't like they knew each other that well. Some of the boys in his class had been teasing him relentlessly about his shyness around girls, and making fun of him for being a virgin. He'd been terrified that they'd somehow find out the truth, so he'd let a couple of them set him up with a girl they knew, who they said was a 'sure thing'. The girl had agreed in advance to sleep with him, and it had all been arranged for the two of them to hook up at a house party one weekend. He'd literally been shoved in her direction, to a chorus of whoops and hollers. All eyes had been on him.

The girl in question, Tanya Roberts, had been pretty wasted, and had dragged him by the hand as she staggered her way back to one of the bedrooms. She'd taken the lead, even if her eyes had been decidedly unfocused, and she'd stunk of booze. She'd stripped off her bikini and skimpy sarong and lain down on the bed with her legs parted. He'd been too shocked to move.

"You jus' gonna watch me like sssome kind of perv?" she'd slurred, eyes half-closed, "Or you gonna do something?"

He hadn't known what to do. His stomach felt sick.

"Hey" shouted one of the boys outside, in a mocking sort of voice, "It doesn't sound like there's much of anything going on in there! Little Kylie too scared to get it up?"

There was a burst of laughter and Kyle had glared at the door with an urge to go out there and settle things with his fists like he usually did. Why had he let them force him into this anyway?

Tanya rolled her eyes at the laughter outside and shouted back "Fuck off Jarrod, jus'cos you can't last more than a minute! Who'd want to fucking sssleep with you?!"

The boy outside laughed awkwardly and stumbled away towards the noise emanating from the living-room.

With that she'd smiled smugly and lain back down with her eyes closed. After a moment, she'd let out an impatient sort of snort and beckoned to Kyle to come closer.

Kyle had made his way over to the girl, and awkwardly stood beside the bed. He hadn't the faintest clue what to do. He'd blushed bright red when she'd opened her eyes and stared blearily up at him.

"Um?" he'd questioned, tentatively moving to undo the button on his shorts. He wasn't sure why he was doing this but he was there now and they were all expecting him to. He didn't think he could cope with the teasing if he didn't. He'd been getting into fights all year because of it so he knew he had no choice. Not if he wanted to stay in school. All the same, he'd glanced at the door longingly. He'd wanted to be anywhere but here.

With an exasperated huff, Tanya had reached for his shorts and unzipped them with practiced ease before shoving her hand inside.

He'd gasped in shock, clamping his hand on her wrist, as she'd begun to move her hand up and down insistently. Memories were assaulting his mind, and making him squirm in disgust, and yet his body was responding. His body liked what her hand was doing, even if his mind didn't. Almost like a betrayal. That part of him had never done that before, at least not when someone else had touched him there...

After a moment or two, she'd pulled him out of his pants, and laid back down. "C'mon then" she'd coaxed, "We gonna do this or not?!"

He'd climbed on top of her rather gracelessly, and gone through the motions almost in a daze, detaching himself like he had all those years ago. He hadn't even used a condom. Watching her, as she lay under him, he couldn't help wondering if it felt to her like it had felt to him. Like being impaled. Like someone tearing your insides apart. Judging by her bored expression, he had to guess that it didn't. Nonetheless, his own noises repulsed him to his very core, and made him cringe with embarrassment. He was horrified to discover that he was every bit as disgusting as those men that had used and abused him through the years. Just as much a sweating, grunting animal as they were, panting and thrusting just like they used to. Even the smells were the same, especially when he'd finished. That reek of sex made him want to retch. He was so ashamed!

As soon as it was over (which wasn't long) he'd left immediately, leaving a naked and passed out Tanya on the bed. He'd needed to vomit, he'd wanted to scrub his skin, and most of all he'd needed to not be there! Anywhere but there!

That incident had triggered his worst episode of self-harm yet, and absolutely terrified the Summers. It had taken a lot of counselling and a lot of support to get him through it. Although he'd never really been honest with any of the counsellors about why he was the way he was, he'd just learnt to repress things better. It was another two years before he slept with a girl again, and a year after that he had met Phoebe.

Phoebe had been the first girl that he had really opened himself up to. His first love. He'd trusted her enough to be intimate with her in a way that he hadn't managed with anyone else before. She was the reason that he could lie here now with Tamara, holding her close, and feeling safe in her embrace. Phoebe had meant more to him than she'd ever know. It was what made her betrayal all the more bitter.

He leaned over and kissed the back of Tamara's neck and whispered to her quietly "I love you so much". He didn't really mean for her to hear him. It was just something that he needed to say in this moment. His heart felt like it would burst if he didn't say the words.

He couldn't have found a woman more different from the Phoebe he'd come to know now. Tamara would never have hurt him like this. He wondered how Phoebe would have dealt with all this turmoil had they been married, and shuddered to think what kind of media circus they'd currently be embroiled in. She'd have probably sold him to the highest bidder by now!

Tamara rolled over to face him with a sleepy little smile and leaned in to give him a kiss. "I love you too" she whispered to him, gently caressing the side of his face. "Now go to sleep!"

 **iii**.

"I'd forgotten how nice it is to live in a small town" said Bianca, giving Heath a big smile, as she sat at the patio table making sandwiches for lunch. She looked across at Harley who was playing in the sandpit and then back at Heath with a happy little sigh. "It's so good to see Irene, and Leah, and all the other friendly faces around! …I'd forgotten how nice it is for people to know you… to not just be some anonymous face in the crowd."

"You're not getting ideas, are you?!" asked Heath, with a hopeful sound in his voice. "I mean, you're not saying that you want to move back here, are you?"

The longer Heath had been back here the more at home he'd been feeling, and he was dreading going back to the city. Life there wasn't exactly what he'd hoped it would be. They still didn't have a lot of friends.

"I don't think we can really, can we?" said Bianca, giving him a non-committal shrug. "I mean with both our jobs… and Darcy's school…"

"Yeah but, you'd like to?" said Heath, giving her a big smile and nodding at her encouragingly. "You'd like to move home to the Bay?!"

She raised an eyebrow at him a little mockingly, and said, "No prizes for guessing where your heart lies then, eh Heath?"

"I just think it's a great place for any little kid to grow up…" he said, holding his arms out wide, as though the garden they were sitting in was proof enough. Apartment living just wasn't the same. "…and this whole thing with Kyle has made me realise just how important having your family around you is…" he said, giving a heavy sigh and shaking his head a little sadly, "I mean… I know that me and Kyle aren't really related… I know that… I mean, I hate it… but I know that now."

"I know, baby" she said, cocking her head to one side sympathetically and giving him a little half-smile. She knew how much all this stuff with Kyle had affected him, and she really wished that there was something, anything, that she could do to help.

"I just feel like I don't really have any family left…" he said, tearing up a little and wiping at his face in a frustrated sort of way. He hated crying in front of people, even Bianca. "Casey's gone… With Brax on the run, I'm never really gonna get to see him again… He might as well be dead… And now I find out that Kyle's not even really my brother… It just feels like everything is falling apart." He stared down at the table, folding and unfolding a paper napkin, and blinking in a desperate attempt to stop himself from crying. He took a deep breath in, wiping again at his teary eyes, and looked up at Bianca. "He's changing his name, Bee… I have to pretend that I'm okay with that… But if I'm honest, I really want him to keep being my brother and I just feel like this whole thing is dragging him further and further away… I mean, of course I know why he's doing it… but I'm just scared I'm gonna lose him completely!"

"You won't!" said Bianca, getting up from the table to put her arms around him. "He loves you" she said, trying her best to reassure him.

She pulled him into a tight hug, and felt him just let go, as he began to cry. She looked at him now and she was struck by how worn and tired he looked. The last few weeks had been incredibly hard. Kyle's horror stories had certainly taken their toll on him and he'd been having to hold everything together, and be strong for Kyle's sake. Bianca knew that Heath was a much more sensitive soul than he made out, and he often really took things to heart. Being a father now, he couldn't stand the thought of anyone being cruel to a child, and Kyle's story was more than he could really handle. Something had had to give eventually.

"Sorry!" said Heath, pulling away from the hug and wiping his eyes with the heels of both hands. He gave her a slightly embarrassed and guilty smile, and said, "I know it's not fair of me to pressure you like this... but I just think I'm gonna have to stick around here for a while… I don't really have a choice. I mean, Kyle's really gonna need some support for a while, especially when the trial comes up. I don't know how he's gonna cope with that when it happens... And he hasn't even found out what happened yet… or who he is…"

He reached out and took her hand in his, looking up at her pleadingly. "I'd really like it if we could all stay…" he said, "But I'll understand if you and Darce really want to go back… I just think I might have to stay for a little while longer and maybe just come home at the weekends. We'll work it out… somehow."

He'd started to tear up a little again. He really didn't want them to go but he knew that he needed to see this through. It had obviously been weighing heavily on his mind the last little while.

Bianca looked down at her husband's tear-stained face, and then gazed around the garden, taking in a big breath of fresh sea air. She knew that Heath was right. Life was so much nicer here. Even the air 'tasted' good!

"You know what, Heath?" she said, giving him a big smile, "Nowhere has ever really seemed like home like this place has… It is a great place for kids to grow up... And I like having Kyle and Tamara in our lives."

She gave a big sigh and sat down in his lap, stretched across him sideways, with her arm around his shoulder.

"The city's too fast a pace, and I think we're both a bit lonely there... I miss Irene... and you clearly miss Kyle..." She took his face in her hands, leaning in to give him a kiss, and then gently wiped the tears from his eyes with her thumbs. "I don't think I can go back to the city either... " she said, taking his hand and placing it softly on her tummy. "Not now..." she said, giving him a meaningful look and biting her lower lip nervously.

Heath's eyes widened in shock, as he realised what she was trying to tell him, and a smile slowly crept across his face.

"Really?!" he exclaimed, with a silly grin stretched from ear to ear. "Really?!" he asked again, his voice full of emotion and excitement. "We're gonna have a baby?!"

Bianca nodded, and her eyes filled up with happy tears.

"I never thought I could do it again" she said, holding his hand on her stomach, and smiling through her tears. "Not after Rocco... but I found out a few days ago... and I... I'm already nearly 4 months gone... and I've never been so excited, Heath!... I really want this baby!"

"Four months?!" exclaimed Heath, looking at her tummy and wondering how he hadn't noticed the little bump that was so plainly evident now. "How?! …I mean, how did we.. how did you not know?!"

"I just thought I was over-stressed at work… not eating properly… I've been a bit irregular for a while…" she said, shaking her head in wonder. "I actually just thought I was getting fat!"

He laughed a little, still not really able to take it in, but the smile on his face said it all. He couldn't have been more pleased.

"We're really gonna do this?" he asked, stroking the side of her face as he gazed into her tear-filled eyes. "We're gonna be parents again?!"

She nodded and leaned in to kiss him again. "We're having a baby" she whispered to him between kisses, "A little brother or sister for Darcy and Harley!".

He hugged his arms around Bianca's waist, as she leaned in against him, and he put his chin on her shoulder. "I can't believe it!" he said, smiling contentedly. "You've just made me the happiest man on earth!"

 **iv.**

"I need to speak to Kyle" said Phoebe, brazenly walking in the open door of Kyle and Tamara's house. "He won't answer my calls but I really need to tell him something!"

Tamara looked up at her in surprise, as she walked in, and couldn't help jumping a little. She was breastfeeding Noah on the couch, and Heath had just popped next door to Josh's, leaving the door wide open.

"Well, he's not here!" said Tamara, lying to her. Kyle was out in the garden with Darcy and Harley. "He's made it pretty clear that he doesn't want to see you or talk to you! Don't you think you should take the hint?!" she said, glaring at her angrily.

"This isn't about me!" said Phoebe, in a pleading tone. "It's about…"

"Everything is always about you, Phoebe!" snapped Tamara, resisting the urge to shout for fear of frightening Noah. "You don't know how to put someone else first. It's always you you you!"

"Look, Tam! Last night, I…" Phoebe started to say, but Tamara cut her off.

"Don't call me that!" growled Tamara, "We're not friends, Phoebe! You've hurt Kyle more than you can ever imagine... and I can't forgive you for that! Not ever! I want you to go… now!"

"Fine! Don't forgive me! I get it! I'm a monster, yada yada yada..." she said, throwing her hands up in the air in a theatrical way. "But I need to talk to Kyle... This is important! It's about his birth family!"

"No!" shouted Tamara, getting red in the face. "No, Phoebe, I need you to go now!"

Noah started to wail, startled by the angry voices, and Tamara gave Phoebe a withering look.

"I don't know what kind of scam it is this time, but I think you've gotten enough money out of my poor husband, don't you?! How low can you possibly get?!"

"Seriously?!" came a voice from behind Phoebe. Heath had just walked out of Josh's and spotted Phoebe standing in the living-room. "Seriously?!" he asked again, in an exasperated tone.

"Heath, this isn't about me... or you..." she said, giving him a pleading look. "I need to tell Kyle something! It's about..."

"Nope!" said Heath, interrupting her, and taking her by the elbow to drag her out of the house. "You don't get to do this, Pheebs!" he snarled at her. "You don't get to do the things you've done and then just show up expecting to speak to Kyle. We don't want to hear your excuses, or your snivelling…" He pushed her out the door and onto the porch, glaring at her and motioning with his head for her to leave. "Go!" he roared loudly.

"I'm trying to do the right thing" whined Phoebe, with a wounded expression on her face. "I'm trying to help!"

"You wouldn't know what the right thing was if it bit you on the bum!" shouted Heath over his shoulder as he walked away.

"But... I think I found his family" muttered Phoebe, as the door slammed in her face. No one was listening.

 **v.**

Kyle sat on the couch with his arm around Tamara, playing with the fingers of her left hand, and pretending that he was watching the movie on the TV. Heath and Bianca had gone out for dinner, grinning and giggling like maniacs, and saying that they wanted to give him and Tamara some time on their own. He didn't know what was up with them, but he appreciated the time alone with Tamara, and the little bit of peace and quiet in the house.

He was trying to watch the movie, but he couldn't stop his mind from whirring, no matter how hard he tried. He just couldn't concentrate on what was happening on the screen. Still, he was doing his best to laugh when Tamara laughed, trying to make her think that he was enjoying it with her, and to create some sense of normalcy for her.

He knew that Phoebe had called over to the house looking for him, and that she'd said something about his 'birth family'. He couldn't figure out what she would have wanted with him this time, and what kind of cruel trick she was planning to pull on him now. He just couldn't get his head around it all. She'd meant everything to him at one time in his life, and for her to turn on him like this, was just soul destroying. Why would she do it?! He had nerves in his stomach, and his whole body felt jittery and on edge, as he wondered what was coming next. What more could she do to hurt him?

Tamara laughed at something on the screen and turned to look at him when she felt him follow suit just a moment too late.

"You're not really enjoying this, are you?" she asked, with a sympathetic look. "We can turn it off, if you like?"

"I'm enjoying it!" he lied, smiling at her and nodding his head in a very unconvincing way. "It's funny" he said, doing his best to smile.

She picked up the remote control and pressed pause. "Babe, I know you're not enjoying it. You don't have to cover with me… not ever." She put her hand up to caress his face and gently kissed him on the lips. "What's going on in that head of yours?" she asked, looking at him with concern.

He let out a big sigh and shook his head. "I can't talk about it tonight, Tam. I can't… I'm too tired." he said, "Can we just watch the movie and sit here like a normal couple, for once?"

She lifted his hand and kissed it lightly, before turning back towards the TV, and pressing play again. She leaned her head in against his shoulder and held his hand that little bit tighter. She was sad that he was hurting so much and there was nothing she could do about it. Maybe just being here with him was helping in some way.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and Kyle jumped a mile high, thinking that it was Phoebe back again, or some of her journalist mates. He glanced at Tamara, looking noticeably startled, and clambered to his feet with his heart racing.

"Who's that?!" he asked her, staring at the front door but clearly not making a move towards it.

She shrugged and grimaced a little. "I don't know… I'll go and see."

She walked over to the door, glancing back at him with a worried expression, and wondering who would come to the door so late at night. It was nearly eleven, and very few people they knew would have called over this late, not now that they had the baby. She opened the door, and her eyes widened in surprise to see the man that was standing on the doorstep.

"Detective Drazic?!" she exclaimed, spinning around to look at Kyle, and blanching a little white with shock.

Detective Drazic peered into the room, past Tamara, to make eye contact with Kyle. He gave him a slightly nervous smile)

"Kyle, we need to speak." he said, "I wanted to do this in person and I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer than I had to… So I got the first flight down here that I could."

He walked into the living-room and motioned with his head to the armchair beside the couch. "May I?" he asked.

"Uh… yeah…" stammered Kyle, feeling his heart thudding in his chest and his stomach tying itself in knots. "What… what… what's this about?" he asked, shakily taking the spot on the couch closest to the detective. "Please… just tell me!"

Tamara joined him on the couch and put her hand on his knee, smiling at him, and trying to be supportive.

Drazic gave him a huge smile, with a flash of white teeth, and unzipped a leather folder that he'd brought with him.

"Kyle…" he said, blowing out a big breath and running his hand through his hair, "You have no idea how happy I am to tell you this… I don't often get to deliver good news in my line of work…" He reached over, putting his hand on Kyle's shoulder, and said, "We've found your birth family!"


	31. Chapter 31

**Author's note: Oh my goodness! Thank you sooo so much to Zoe-eoZ for the incredibly lovely comments (and constructive criticism! :-) You're a star! I have enjoyed reading each and every one of your reviews. It's really interesting to get a fresh perspective and you've given me a few ideas for the final chapters too. Thank you, thank you, thank you! (Oh and in my mind, Drazic is indeed Bogdan Drazic from Heartbreak High. You're the first to catch that! Haha!) Thanks to Braxton54 for your support too, and FrankElza as always ;-)**

 **Here's another chapter. Hope you enjoy it! (Bit nervous about this one if I'm honest)**

 **Chapter 31**

"Baby?" said Tamara, watching as Kyle stared down at the sheets of paper in his hand.

He'd managed to open the envelope and unfold the letter but it was clear that he was struggling to take that final leap and begin reading. The letter was shaking so violently in his hands that she was sure he wouldn't be able to read a single word.

"Do you want me to read it to you?" she asked, eyeing it a little nervously.

She desperately wanted to see what it said, for both his sake and hers.

Detective Drazic nodded to her, giving her a sympathetic smile, as he fidgeted a little nervously in his chair. This was the first time that he'd been able to give someone such good news, and he was both excited and anxious. He was much better versed in breaking bad news, of course; the kind of devastating 'your life will never be the same again' news. He was good at that. He'd done that so many times, and he knew all too well how to deal with the distress of bereaved family members. Sadly, he was more than comfortable with that, sometimes feeling like the grim reaper, but this was new for him. He wanted Kyle to be happy. He wanted to be able to give someone news that would make them happy just once in his life! Problem was, he wasn't sure how Kyle was going to take it. He could see that the poor guy was still in shock, and reeling from the revelation that his family was actually out there looking for him. It didn't seem to be sinking in.

Drazic looked down at the leather folder in his hands, and thought better of handing over any of the other documents just yet. The letter was going to be shock enough, for now. He thought that it might be best for Tamara to read it for him and then they'd see where they went from there.

Without replying to Tamara, Kyle handed the letter to her, wiping his hands on his jeans and looking down at the floor with a shuddery sigh. She took the sheets of paper from him, noting the flowery handwriting and female style of penmanship, and took a deep breath to begin reading.

" _Dearest Noah"_ she began, letting out a loud gasp, and covering her mouth with her hand _. "We know that you call yourself Kyle now, but for nearly four whole years your name was Noah."_

Tamara squealed and reached for Kyle's hand, as he looked up at her in shock. "Baby! Your name is Noah!" she said, smiling at him with tears in her eyes. "That's why you liked that name so much… Baby, some part of you must have remembered!"

He shook his head in wonder and stared at the pages that were fluttering now in her other hand. "Noah?" he said quietly, in a dazed and distant sort of way. "I'm Noah?" he said, questioningly. He nodded at the pages in her hand for her to continue.

 _"We know that you call yourself Kyle now, but for nearly four whole years your name was Noah. You were son of Anna and Marco, brother of Nicola and Mia, grandson of Vito, Clara, Antonio, and Maria, and cousin of so many that it's not possible to name them all here. Your name was Noah Innocenti."_

Tamara stopped and looked over at Kyle. He had a completely vacant look on his face, like none of this was really registering. He was simply staring at the letter in her hand. She reached out and gently touched his face, turning him to look at her. Their eyes met and he shook his head as tears began to roll down his cheeks. She took his face in her hands and gave him a gentle kiss.

"Kyle… your name is Noah Innocenti… You're Italian!" she said, tilting her head and giving him a gentle smile. "And you have siblings!"

He looked up at her with pain and sorrow in his eyes and said, "So I do have a family then?"

She nodded and looked back at the letter, smiling and tearing up a little, as she read the next few lines.

 _"We want you to know that you were very loved and cherished little boy. We love you. We have never stopped loving you. Your absence left an enormous hole in our hearts that we have never been able to fill. We missed you every single day from when you have disappeared."_

Kyle sat back against the cushions of the couch with a shuddering sigh and glanced at the detective who was still sitting to the other side of him. He wiped at his eyes in an embarrassed sort of way and looked at the floor again, unable to maintain eye contact. Detective Drazic gave him a sympathetic smile and patted him on the knee.

"They're desperate to see you, mate" said Drazic, "But I wanted to break the news to you first. It would have been a bit too overwhelming for them to just show up here… We're going to arrange a meeting with them… when you're ready."

Tamara smiled at Detective Drazic and then turned back to Kyle. "See, baby, they love you! They've always loved you!"

Kyle rubbed his face in both hands and took a deep breath, looking back at the letter that Tamara held in her lap.

"Does it say in there what happened?" he asked, voice shaking, "I mean how... how I ended up at... at the Hames'?"

He was finding it hard not to break down completely. He'd expected an 'ah-ha' moment where he'd hear their names and suddenly he would remember everything, but it hadn't happened. How had he forgotten everyone? How could he not have remembered that he had siblings?! Why were none of their names familiar to him?! He had wanted to have some sense that he belonged with these people, but try as he might, he couldn't remember anything.

Was this another lie?!

What if he threw himself into building a relationship with these people only to discover that it was some sort of scam and that it wasn't true? He didn't think that he could cope with more disappointment or betrayal. His heart hurt just thinking about it. Part of him wanted to curl up in a ball and cry himself to sleep. This was all a bit too much.

 _"You have two little sisters, Cassie and Ella, who arrived some years later, but they have always known about you - their beautiful big brother Noah! We tell them about you all the time. You have not been forgotten, not even for an instant!"_

Tamara beamed at him, and said, "Baby, you have four sisters!"

"Actually Nicola is a boy's name in Italy" said Drazic, "You have a brother and three sisters."

"How amazing is that?!" giggled Tamara.

Kyle nodded despondently and stared at the floor again.

Yeah, it's amazing" he said in a very flat voice, hugging his arms around himself.

He wasn't sure what he was feeling. He was afraid to accept that any of this was true. He'd like to have thought that he had siblings, and a family that wanted him, but something just didn't seem right. He had an anxious feeling gnawing at the pit of his stomach. Phoebe's betrayal had made him paranoid and he just couldn't shake the feeling that this all seemed too good to be true.

"They're Italian?" he asked.

"They moved from Italy when you were about a year old" said Drazic, "They live in Sydney now though... and they speak English pretty well... So, don't worry about that."

Kyle just stared at him for a moment, horrified that they'd been so close all these years. They lived in Sydney. That was only an hour away!

"Go on" he said, turning to look at Tamara, "Just read it… don't stop till the end..."

Tamara gave his hand a squeeze before launching back in.

 _"I am so sorry, Noah! What happened was my fault, and I don't know if I can ever forgive myself, knowing what I know now. I am sorry truly, my beautiful little baby boy! We thought that you had died._

 _We lost you one sunny day in November. You were nearly 4 years old. We spent the day on the beach building sandcastles and paddling with armbands in the shallow water. Your sister was at your grandmother's house so it was just the four of us; me, your daddy, you, and Nicola. We were having such a lovely day! Then daddy went to get us something to eat and you stayed with me and Nicola on the beach. We were talking to another family who seemed nice. They were very friendly, and their son Tom, who was about eight years old, took a great interest in you both._

 _You two boys were enjoying playing with a boy bigger than you, and splashing the water. Nicola wanted a drink, so he came to me. He asked to me his tippy cup, but we didn't see the wasp on the side. Nicola is allergic from wasp stings, so when he got stung, he immediately started to swell. I had to react fast. There was an epi pen in the car so I took him up in my arms and called to you to come with me. You were enjoying yourself with Tom, so much, that you didn't want to come. I couldn't make you come out. Nicola didn't breathe anymore and I didn't know what to do. I made a wrong decision, and it will destroy me for the rest of my life, even more now that I understand what happened really!_

 _The couple with whom we had been speaking said that they would keep an eye on you until I came back. You were wearing armbands and the water was not deep, so I thought you would have been in safety playing with the other little boy. I decided to take Nicola and run to the car with him. But when I returned, there were people everywhere, that shouted about a child that was drowned. Men dived in the water to look for you. A lifeguard arrived and went out searching the water for you._

 _When your daddy arrived after a while, the whole beach was full with rescue people and police. People on the beach said that a rip current had pulled you out. The couple, and their little boy Tom, said that you went too far away and suddenly you disappeared. We looked for you. We searched for you for many days but you were simply gone. We believed that you were drowned. The coastguard said that bodies were sometimes never recovered, that the currents had carried you too far away, and that they were going to have to stop the search. They looked for you for over a week but there just wasn't any sign of you. We stayed there for weeks hoping that we'd find you. We wanted to bring you home so we could at least bury you with family. We wanted to have a grave to visit, and to know where you were. But you never came back. Not knowing where you were, or what had happened to you, has been the hardest thing._

 _Eventually we had to go home and search to become a family again, without you. We didn't know how to start. We struggled for a very long time, above all Nicola._

 _You boys are twins. Identical twins. You did everything together. You were born first and you were always the stronger one, the one more full of courage, the leader. Suddenly Nicola was solo. You were not there anymore. He didn't have that mirror image, that other half of him, his more brave other half. Mia blamed me for what happened. Life has been difficult._

 _As parents, we were a mess, and we couldn't stop fighting. There were days when one of us, or both of us, couldn't get out of bed. Your death was just too hard to face. We could not go past it. It was a very long time to feel that we could move on. I'm not sure that we really have._

 _Yesterday, the husband of your sister found the newspaper with your photo. I knew you as soon as I saw you. You still have those tender and deep eyes. You still look so much like Nicola, but you were always a little different. I could always told you apart when no-one else could._

 _My son-in-law knew that there had to be a reason, so he carried the paper to show us. There was a photo of the Hames' couple on the front of the paper as well. I recognised them immediately! They were the couple that we met on the beach that day. That couple with the young boy called Tom. It was them who said to everyone that you had drowned. They were the reason that the search and rescue operation was started that day._

 _I don't know where you really were for all the many hours that we stood shoulder to shoulder on that beach, but they made us search for a body for days and days. In reality they had taken you! It makes the shivers come to think what they did to you and where they kept you! That woman, Jessica, stayed with me on the beach that day. She put her arm around me and she told me continually that it wasn't my fault. I feel sick when I think how cold and calculated their actions were. They took our child from us. They stole you from us and then they cried crocodile tears at our side. That woman even sent me a condolence card when we had a memorial mass for you. It surprises me that she didn't come to see from close the pain and suffering that she'd caused!"_

Tamara glanced at Kyle who was now covering his face with both hands and leaning forward on the couch with his elbows on his knees.

"Kyle?" she said, cautiously reaching out and touching his arm. "Kyle, are you okay, baby? Do you want me to stop?"

He took his hands away and shook his head. The expression on his face was one of such pain and anguish that she thought her heart would break just looking at him.

Kyle tried to give Tamara a little smile but it came out as more of a grimace. He felt like someone had reached inside his chest and was slowly crushing his heart in their fist. Things were starting to fall into place for him and beginning to make a lot more sense. He didn't remember the Hames' taking him from the beach that day, but he did have a memory of being tied up and gagged, and lying for hours in the dark and the sweltering heat. Probably in the boot of a car.

He knew who Tom was too. He was starting to understand a little better some of the arguments that had happened in that house. They had used Tom as bait, luring children to play with him, and convincing parents that they could be trusted. That was how they had abducted the children. Tom had been complicit for many years, and he had had a privileged position in the house because of it, getting to sleep upstairs and eat when he wanted to. He had often taken part in some of the punishments of other children, seeming to take pleasure in their suffering, and trying to impress Jessica and Simon with his cruelty. At fourteen, he must have outlived his usefulness, or maybe he had grown tired of it and wanted to stop.

Whatever the case, Kyle remembered the loud fight when Tom had screamed at them, threatening to tell the police what they'd been doing all these years. He'd heard him try to leave but there had been loud crashes and screaming above ground. The children in the basement had listened in fear as Tom had been dragged screaming and crying along the floor, and then thrown down the stairs with a loud crashing thud. That was when they'd done it. That was when they'd lined all the children up and made them watch, saying that this is what happened to blabbermouths. He didn't think that they'd meant for Tom to die, but the boy had panicked so much that they'd cut his throat, and it was something that Kyle would never be able to forget.

He looked at Tamara and nodded again at the letter in her hand. "Finish it" he said, slumping back into the sofa and puffing out a big breath.

She smiled at him, thinking how sad he looked, and took another big breath to continue.

 _"So here we are, Tesoro, I am so sorry that I left you that day. I'm sorry that I trusted those people to watch you, but I thought that they were normal parents, enjoying themselves at the beach just like everyone. I'm sorry that I was so stupid and didn't see them for the monsters that they clearly were._

 _I know that you have lived a nightmare that very few people can imagine, and my heart it breaks to know how much you have suffered. I would give anything to go back and change things… but I can't._

 _All we can do now is try to go forward… as best we can. If we can. I hope that you are open to come to meet us. I hope that you will want to know your family, to see your brother and sister again, to meet your little sisters and your other relatives, and to let us hug you and never let you go again._

 _Kyle, we love you! Please come home!_

 _Mamma xxx"_

Kyle gave a shuddering sigh and reached his hand out to Tamara to take the letter back. She let him take it from her, and tried to give him a little smile, but he looked away and sat there shaking with the letter in front of him. She watched him as he mouthed the word 'mamma' over and over again and furrowed his brow. She didn't know what to say to him. Suddenly they had the answers to their questions, but it was so much more shocking than she'd ever imagined. There was so much to process. So much to get their heads around. She didn't really know where to start. She put her hand on his knee, giving it a little squeeze, and then glanced at the detective in the hope that he might have some idea of what to do next.

Kyle looked at the letter and ran his eyes over the words, taking in the odd sentence, and running things over in his mind. He repeated the name 'Nicola' to himself under his breath, trying to remember ever saying that name before. Nothing was coming back. He couldn't remember him! He finally looked at Tamara, shaking his head in wonder and sadness, and said, "I have a twin… How did I not remember that I was a twin?!" He turned to the detective and glanced at the black folder on his knee. "Do you have photos?" he asked, eyeing the stack of documents inside.

Drazic nodded and opened the folder again. He pulled out a stack of A4 pages and set them on top of the folder. "Okay, Kyle, I have some photos that your family gave me to show you… and I have some newspaper cuttings from the time of your abduction. We thought you might want to see some of them, just to understand a little better what happened." He took a deep breath and handed him the documents, glancing at Tamara a little nervously.

The first page was a photo of a man and woman who looked to be about fifty years old but who were wearing well for their age. He looked at the shapes of their eyes, and their noses, and their mouths, and thought how strange it was that for the first time in his life he could see his own features in the face of someone else. He looked like both of them in different ways. Kyle could see that he had his mother's eye shape and colour, and he'd definitely gotten his skin tone from her. His father looked like an older version of him, with a slightly heavier, more muscular build, and a squarer jaw. He looked back and forth between the faces and then looked up into Tamara's eyes.

"These are my parents" he said, as his chin began to tremble and his eyes filled with tears again. "Look Tam, I have my dad's nose!"

Tamara leaned in and put her head on his shoulder to look at the photos with him. She thought how most people take it for granted to look into the faces of their parents and see their own features staring back at them. Kyle had never had that sense of belonging.

He looked at the next page and let out a gasp, covering his mouth with his hand, and glancing at Tamara in shock. There was a photo of his four siblings sitting together on a sofa, dressed in warm winter clothes, and surrounded by Christmas decorations. Right in the middle was his twin brother! It was the weirdest sensation to see his own face staring at him, looking at the camera with a happy grin stretched from ear to ear, and hugging his arms around the girls on either side. He had that smug and over privileged look that Kyle had always hated. He looked like someone who had never known pain or suffering in his life. Looking at it sent a shiver down his spine. Here was the life that he could have had. Here was the shiny, perfect, picture postcard life that he should have had. This was the life that was stolen from him.

He looked at the face of this man, that looked so much like him, and all he felt was a surge of anger. He wanted to wipe that smug self-satisfied smile off his face. He wanted him to experience for just one moment the misery that he had lived through. To feel the pain and the humiliation of the childhood that he had lived.

He looked at his brother's face, and wondered why he had been the one that was chosen, and not Nicola. Why had the Hames' taken him? He looked at his brother and he thought how their paths had diverged that one day on the beach. Nicola had got a wasp-sting, whereas he had lost his family forever. He knew which one he would have preferred!

The more he looked at this happy family scene, with the four of them cuddled up so cosy together, the more he realised that he would never fit in. How could he ever sit there with them, smiling like that, when all he'd be able to think about was how much he'd missed out on? How could they ever treat him as one of them, when all they'd be able to see was a victim of child pornography? It just wouldn't work! What would they have to talk about?!

Kyle sighed and sat back against the sofa, rubbing his face again in exhaustion, and wiping at his eyes.

"This is just…" he started to say, but he didn't really know how to finish the sentence. "This is…" he tried again, before shaking his head in exasperation. "I… just can't…." he said.

"Maybe we should look at the rest of this stuff in the morning?" said Tamara, rubbing her hand up and down his arm in an attempt to be reassuring. "I think it's all a bit much to take in right now… maybe when you've had some sleep?…"

"You think I'm going to sleep?!… Now!?" he sneered at her, giving a bitter laugh and shaking his head incredulously. "Look at these people! Tam, look at them!" he snapped, holding the photos up for her to see. "Look at their smug faces! This is my life! This! This is the life I was supposed to have!"

He stared again at the happy group photo of his four siblings, and then turned, glaring angrily at Tamara.

"I mean, look at them! They couldn't be happier, the four of them together! Look at them in their winter sweaters, probably skiing in Europe for Christmas! …I mean, what am I supposed to talk about with these people?! Look at this photo, Tam! I don't fit here… I just don't fit!" He jabbed his finger in the photo of Nicola's face and held it right in front of Tamara. "He fits! ...I just… _don't!"_ He sat back again leaning his elbow on the arm of the couch and hiding his eyes with his hand. "I don't know what I thought I wanted…" he said, with a tired sigh. "I just don't know."

Tamara took the rest of the papers out of his lap and sifted through them slowly. There were a number of news articles outlining the tragedy of the small boy who drowned on a day out at the beach. Most of them focused on the fact that he was one of a pair of twin boys, and the anguish of his parents losing him while tending to the other's allergic reaction to a bee sting. There was even an interview with the Hames' where they made out that Simon was some sort of hero who'd gone above and beyond in an attempt to save the poor boy. She glanced at Kyle wondering whether to hide it from him. This just seemed like too heavy a blow.

Her eyes suddenly fell on the date that was printed on the news cuttings. "3rd November 1997?" she asked, giving the detective a look of surprise. "But… 1997?" she said, "But… That would mean that Kyle is…"

Detective Drazic nodded and blew out a big breath sitting forward in the chair with his hands in a steeple shape. Kyle had taken his hand away from his face and was looking at him with confusion.

"Kyle" he said, "I'm not sure how to tell you this…" He cleared his throat and ran one of his hands through his hair, "It seems you were born on 1st December 1993, Kyle… So, you're actually only…"

"24?!" exclaimed Kyle, his eyes wide with shock. "I'm 24?!" His face blanched white and he turned to look at Tamara, "I'm only… 24?!"

Tamara furrowed her brow and looked back at the detective. "This can't be right! Kyle's 27… I mean… Isn't he?!"

She looked back and forth between the two of them, with a sinking sensation in her stomach, as she realised that Kyle really didn't know anything about himself for sure. He didn't know who he was. He didn't know when he was born! Kyle Braxton would have been 27 years old, but Noah Innocenti was only 24! Her mind was racing as she did mental calculation after mental calculation, trying to figure out what age he would have been at different junctures in their life together. She looked back at him now, trying to see if he looked younger to her now, and wondering if it should have been obvious to her. He stared into the distance in a dazed way, as though he'd disappeared into a world of his own.

Kyle thought about the number of times that people had told him that he was small for his age. When he'd arrived at the Summers' house they'd had to buy him clothes for a ten-year-old. It was something that he'd found deeply embarrassing because he'd been led to believe that he was thirteen! When he visited Danny Braxton for the first time, he would only have been fourteen years old. No wonder he had thought he was so small and scrawny for a seventeen-year-old! So much of this suddenly made so much more sense…

"It's what made the search that bit more difficult" said Drazic. "We hadn't considered that you might not be the age that we thought you were. I'm sorry about that. This has been a bit of a learning experience for our team, actually."

Kyle smirked and gave a sarcastic huff. "Glad I could help!" he said, a little bitterly. He looked at his own reflection in the window behind Drazic and gave a heavy sigh. "Y'know… I don't know a single thing about myself! Every time I think I've got a handle on things, someone like you comes and tells me that I'm wrong… Do you have any idea what that's like?!"

Tamara took his hand in hers, and reached with her other hand to turn his face back towards her. She looked into his big sad eyes, and said, "Kyle… You're still the man I love… I didn't know that you were 24 or that your name was Noah… but I know who you are…" She put her hand on his chest just over his heart, and said, "We both know who you are… in here."

He smirked a little sadly and said, "You're just pleased that you've got yourself a toy boy, eh?!"

Detective Drazic cleared his throat, sitting forward, and putting his hand on Kyle's knee. "Um… Kyle?" he asked a little nervously. "Your family would like to meet you…"


	32. Chapter 32

**Author's note: Okay, so here's the new chapter. Apologies for the ridiculous delay but I've been on holiday and I haven't been doing much writing. Just wanted to say a massive thank you to FrankElza, Zoe-eoZ, Braxtonboyzz123, and Braxton54 for all the lovely comments and support. This chapter's a bit dark, but I hope you like it.**

* * *

 **Chapter 32**

' _Bang bang bang…'_

Kyle could hear the incessant thumping on the shuttered door at the top of the stairs. He just didn't want to open the door. He wanted Heath to go away. In fact, he wanted the whole world outside that door to go away.

"Come on, Kyle?!" shouted a frantic sounding Heath, "Don't do this! I know you're in there!"

Kyle sat slumped on the floor in his darkened restaurant, his back leaning against the bar, and his head hanging down against his chest. He'd been drinking for hours and the almost-empty bottle of whiskey was sitting between his legs. The letter from his mother was lying on the floor beside him, crumpled from having been folded in his back pocket, and a little smudged from tear-soaked hands. He was drunk… and he was quietly crying… his vision too blurred at this stage to make out the words. Not that he could have read it anyway, the only light was the blue glow of the moon falling across the floor from one of the windows.

"Kyle, please?!" came a shout from outside, "You're scaring Tamara! You don't wanna do this!"

The banging on the door seemed to get louder, and then there was a clanging noise like something heavy and metallic crashing against the shutters. Probably one of the fire extinguishers, Kyle thought to himself. He couldn't help wondering what damage was being done to the restaurant shutters and how much it was going to cost to fix. Not that it really mattered. Nothing really mattered anymore…

"Damn it, Kyle?!" grunted Heath, with an air of exhaustion to his voice, "Will you open this fucking door?!" Then there was a loud clang as he must have thrown his improvised battering ram to the floor below his feet. "I'm calling the cops!" warned Heath, in a tone that said he was just threatening, and not yet serious. A Braxton voluntarily involving the police?! That'd be the day.

Kyle gave a sad little snort and picked us his phone when he heard it vibrating. He had to squint hard to see the name flashing on the screen. "Heath" it read, but he pressed red to cancel the call. Heath and Tamara had been calling now for about the last three hours. Their texts had been swinging back and forth between sickly sweet _'I love you, Baby'_ and _'We're here for you'_ type messages, with pleas for him to come home, and threats of violence and divorce if he didn't. He felt bad for scaring them like this, but right now, he just couldn't handle talking to either of them. He couldn't handle talking to anyone.

He kept playing the evening over in his head…

Detective Drazic had seemed so excited about the prospect of setting up a meeting with the Innocenti family, smiling from ear-to-ear, and gushing about how nice they all were and how lucky he was that they'd been found. He could still see the shock and disappointment on the man's face when he'd told him that he didn't want to go. 'But why?!' the man had gasped, turning to look at Tamara for support. Kyle didn't really have an answer for that. He just knew that he couldn't do it. He'd all but kicked the man out and slammed the door.

Then there was Tamara. As soon as the detective had gone, they'd ended up in a massive fight. She couldn't understand for the life of her how he could throw away an opportunity like this. After so many weeks of searching and heartache, how could he refuse to go and meet them? These wonderful loving parents who _wanted_ him?! This family that hadn't given up hope that he'd be found?! How could he just walk away from that?! He didn't have an answer for her either.

He couldn't put into the words the emptiness that he felt. The great gaping hole that had opened in his chest in the place that his heart should be. He couldn't explain how sad he was to see those photos. To have physical evidence of the life that he had missed out on, and the family that he should have had. To know that they'd gone on without him and filled the void that he'd left behind with more children. That they hadn't needed him. Worse than all of that was that he knew now, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would never belong with them. That he would never fit in.

How could he?!

In some ways he'd come to terms with being a 'no-one'. He'd started to accept that his family wouldn't be found and resigned himself to never knowing the truth. It would have been easier than finding out that his parents were the kind of scumbags who would sell their baby, or that his mother had been a twelve year old girl who was raped and murdered, or something equally seedy and shameful. Not knowing might have been easier under those circumstances. That was what he'd told himself anyway. It wasn't like he was going to find out he was related to the Brady Bunch. Maybe it would be better to let sleeping dogs lie?

But now that he knew the truth, he found himself confused by his own reaction. On paper they were everything that he'd ever wanted a family to be. They were a nice respectable family who owned a restaurant in a suburb of Sydney. He had brothers and sisters, and aunts and uncles, and even grandparents. He had a huge extended family! And they _wanted_ him. They hadn't thrown him away like trash, he'd been stolen. He'd been taken from them against their will! So, why wasn't he happy?! What was wrong with him?!

He'd looked at those photos and tried to imagine himself at some family event. A barbecue maybe? His dad would be manning the grill, his mum making pasta salad and ordering people about as they milled around the garden setting the table and getting things ready. He'd be joking around with his brother and his sisters and maybe Noah would be playing with their kids. It would all be so shiny and perfect… and _normal_ … and everything he'd ever imagined family life to be. He'd be so happy.

But then they'd see the scars on his arm… and they'd read the newspapers… and the trial with the Hames would come looming into view… and suddenly they'd all want to know. They'd start to ask him questions. They'd start talking to Tamara and Heath, and to the detectives… and they'd ask him about things that he didn't want to have to talk about… not with them. Not with these lovely shiny 'Innocenti'. Even their surname was like a punch in the guts; 'Innocent', something he hadn't been since he was three years old.

And he'd have to answer those questions… Those painful, hurtful questions. He'd have to tell them about the endless rapes and the fact that he'd been forced into making pornography. He'd have to tell them all the sordid details. He'd have to, because he wouldn't be able to lie to them. And even if he didn't answer them, they'd still find out… and then they'd _know_. They'd know every horrible humiliating thing he'd had to do… and they'd look at him with pity and disgust. Like something broken… And they'd be right.

And like a rotten piece of fruit in a barrel full of shiny apples, he'd ruin everything. That perfect 'Innocent' family scene would soon be tarnished. Their happy unblemished view of the world, so obvious in those photos he'd been given, would be gone. And like a house with dry rot in the basement, it wouldn't be long before everything came crumbling down. And it would all be his fault.

Like everything else in his life.

If only he'd come out of the water when his mother had asked him to… If only he hadn't been trying to impress an older boy… If only he'd been more _obedient_ …

He gave a bitter laugh at that. He'd certainly been taught obedience! He'd done everything those men had told him to. _Everything_.

The thought of it made him sick.

He'd been sitting there on that couch tonight with Tamara and Detective Drazic, pretending for their benefit that he was still there with them, safe in his house in Summer Bay. He'd been trying to concentrate on them, as they excitedly discussed a meeting at the Sands Hotel so he could meet his parents, but their voices had been muffled in the background. In truth, his mind and body were being torn in two. He was back there, back in that house… and it was all happening again. Memories had flooded through his mind at breakneck speed. Sensory memories of pain, and degradation, and humiliation, and he hadn't been able to shut it out.

How was he supposed to sit there with normal people when his mind kept reminding him of the horrors he'd endured? How could he meet his birth family when he couldn't even stop the flashbacks in the safety of his own livingroom?

' _It's not real'_ he'd tried to tell himself, but knowing it and feeling it were two very different things.

He'd glanced at Tamara, hoping that she'd see his distress and get the detective to leave, but all she'd done is smile and babble on about how amazing this whole thing was going to be.

"Baby?" he'd heard Tamara say, and suddenly both sets of eyes had been on him, stupid grins on both their faces. "Baby, you're excited too, aren't you?" she'd asked.

An anger had risen up inside him. How could she not see?! Was he so alone in the world that even his wife didn't understand his pain?

That was when it had hit him. She didn't understand. No-one would ever understand the way that he felt. _No-one_.

Not his wife… and certainly not these people that were supposed to be his family.

He was just as alone now as he'd been as a child. Alone in the dark with only his own tortured thoughts to keep him company.

It was the loneliness of that that had torn him in two.

That was why he'd run. That was why he was sitting here now in the dark. He could only guess at the turmoil that he'd left in his wake, but right now he couldn't bring himself to care.

They would all be better off without him. They'd see that eventually, even if they didn't right now…

"Mate, come on?!" shouted Heath, from outside, "You're really starting to piss me off! …Open the fucking door!"

"Just fuck off!" Kyle mumbled, under his breath. Why couldn't Heath just leave him in peace? Didn't he understand? He didn't want to be found! That was why he hadn't turned on the lights. That was why he'd taken all the keys and made sure to lock the doors as though he'd never been there. That was why his phone was on silent. "Just leave me alone" he said, staring at the doorway but not bothering to raise his voice.

He choked down another large mouthful of whiskey and raised a shaky hand to wipe his mouth. Why was he even drinking whiskey, he couldn't help wondering? A bar full of alcohol and he'd chosen the one he liked the least. Was it just to punish himself that little bit more? Was he that pathetic?! He glared at the bottle in his hands and saw there was only a couple of mouthfuls left. Might as well drink the rest, even if he was close to passing out…

He took a tear-choked glug from the bottle and forced the last of the fiery liquid down his throat before throwing the bottle down on the floor and collapsing on his side. It was a real struggle to keep his eyes open now. He felt heavy, and tired, and more than a little sick… but his gaze fell on the crumpled photo of his siblings lying on the floor in front of him. He couldn't stop himself from scowling at the man in the photo, a man that looked remarkably like himself.

"Nicola" he choked out, grimacing as he tried to hold in a sob.

So many conflicting emotions swirled about his being. Anger. Resentment. Jealousy. Sorrow. Guilt… and a whole gamut of other feelings that he didn't even have a name for. Part of him wanted to reach into the photo and smack his brother right in his smug smiling face. How could he just sit there with a smile like that, in the (albeit mistaken) belief that his twin brother was dead? How could he just have moved on, as though nothing had happened? Had he meant so little to him?

And then there were the young girls in the photo. He hadn't really looked at them properly until now. They looked like twins too, especially because they were dressed in identical woolly jumpers and jeans, and had the same haircuts. Had his parents simply replaced him? Had it been that easy to just have more children and forget about the one they'd lost? Had he been so forgettable? So completely worthless?

He supposed that he was…

As his eyes fell closed, his mind began to drift back to a time in that house…

* * *

" _You ungrateful little shit!" hissed Jessica, as she dragged him along the floor towards the bathroom, "After everything me and Simon have done for you! This is how you repay us!"_

 _His knees burned as he was pulled across the wooden floor and over the metal doorjamb onto the carpeted floor of the dirty bathroom. His hands were busy, fumbling at Jessica's hands, and desperately trying to loosen the grip that she had on his hair. It felt like his scalp was on fire._

" _And stop that crying!" she warned him, as she gave a particularly vicious yank and tore a massive handful of hair from his head, leaving a bleeding bald patch in its wake._

 _He couldn't control the scream that forced its way up his throat, but it was quickly stifled by the kick he took to the groin. He doubled up on the floor coughing and retching, and put his hands between his legs. What little he'd had to eat the night before came spluttering back out of his mouth onto the shag carpet._

" _Oh, for fuck's sake!" growled Jessica, "Look what you've done now!"_

 _He couldn't move. He was heaving breaths in through his nose, deep and shuddery, as he tried to quell the nausea, and ride out the waves of intense pain gnawing their way through his groin and his abdomen. He felt like he was going to die._

" _You dirty little bastard!" screamed Jessica, as she once again took hold of his hair and forced his face down into his own regurgitated mess, "You made this mess, so we're not leaving here till you clean it up… Now eat it!"_

 _He tried to pull away from the horrid smell, wriggling and thrashing, but she climbed on top of him, pressing her knee in between his shoulder blades to keep him still on the floor and forced his face back down. He was crying hysterically now._

" _Eat it!" she insisted again, snarling through gritted teeth, and pressing so hard on his back that he couldn't breathe. "Open your mouth…" she growled, smashing his face against the vomit soaked carpet again, "And eat it, like the filthy little bitch you are!"_

 _He struggled for a few moments more, mouth clamped shut, as he tried in vain to buck her off. She was so much bigger than him and heavy too. He couldn't get away._

" _Do it!" she ordered, pressing down even harder. The pain and the pressure on his spine became too much. It felt like his back was going to break and his vision was beginning to go black at the edges. He had no choice! With tears stinging his eyes, he tentatively poked out his tongue and licked at the sour mess in front of him. The taste was worse than he'd imagined and he recoiled immediately, retching and trying to spit it out._

" _Ah ah ah!" she scolded, reaching down and scooping some of it on her fingers before forcing it inside his mouth. "Now swallow" she snarled, as she held his mouth closed and pressed her knee hard into his back. The pain was too much, he couldn't move. He couldn't fight back. All he could do was swallow. All he could do was try not to vomit again and force the foul substance down as best he could._

" _That's it!" she coaxed, in a mocking way as she scooped up another handful and repeated the process, "You like that, don't you? …Mmm yummy!"_

 _Tears were streaming down his face and he had to breathe hard through his nose to keep from puking again. He tried desperately to make his mind go elsewhere… It was easier said than done…_

" _There!" she crowed triumphantly, once most of it was gone, "I knew you'd do it! That's what dogs do, you know? They eat their own vomit too… Is that what you are boy? A dog? Is that why you're so disobedient? Guess, we haven't trained you well enough, huh?!"_

 _He gave a little groan and just lay there staring blankly at the floor. There was no fight left in him._

 _Not getting the response that she wanted, she wrenched his hair, and pulled his head up so she could whisper in his ear. This new position put even further strain on his spine and he cried out in agony._

" _You will eat what we tell you to eat…" she said in an eerily calm voice, her breath hot against his ear as he shook in her grasp, "You will do what we tell you to do… Everything we tell you to do… because dirty disgusting little dogs like you don't deserve to be alive. No-one wants you. No-one loves you. No-one will EVER love you. The only reason you draw breath is because me and Simon let you… but that can change in a heartbeat and don't you ever forget that. We own you… and we can do what we want with you." She giggled in a cruel sort of way and gripped his hair extra hard drawing a gasp from the frightened child. "Anything. We. Want" she said, emphasising every word, "Anything!"_

 _With that she slammed his head back down against the floor, so hard it made him see stars, and then she climbed off him. He took a huge breath, the relief forcing his whole body to shudder, now that he could breathe again. He coughed and spluttered, and brought his arms around his middle. He didn't have the strength to get up. He didn't have the strength to do anything._

 _His relief was short lived though. Suddenly he was being dragged to his feet and roughly stripped of his clothes. He didn't protest. He wouldn't have, even if he'd had his wits about him, but right now he was still too dazed to register what was happening._

" _Now" she said, smirking as she yanked his dirty little y-fronts down and cast them aside, "I want you washed and dressed in twenty minutes. I've got someone very special waiting for you tonight and if I were you, Boy… I'd make sure you do exactly what you're told. My friend upstairs doesn't like… disobedience.'_

 _He shivered as he stared at the floor, almost hypnotised by the droplets of blood dripping from his nose. He was so cold… so tired… so sore and bruised… and his mouth was full of the disgusting taste of his own vomit. All he wanted was to curl up and die. After all, he'd just eaten his own vomit off a bathroom floor, and now he was going upstairs to be the plaything of some revolting man he didn't even know. He felt pathetic and ashamed. Jessica was right! He was dirty. He was disgusting. And no-one was ever going to love him. So what was the point in going on? What was the point in being alive? Maybe he should just make them so angry they'd kill him?_

 _He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice Jessica filling the bath with water and bleach._

 _It was only when he was lifted bridal style that he began to panic because he realised what Jessica had in store for him. He shrieked in pain and shock when he was suddenly plunged into a bath of freezing cold water and his head forced under. She held him there, gripping him hard around the neck, as he bucked and thrashed. It felt like an eternity to him before she let him up again, spluttering and desperately trying to draw breath. His eyes stung like crazy and his mouth was full of some strange soapy taste. But he hardly had time to register it before he was shoved under again, and no matter how much he fought she wouldn't let him up…_

* * *

"Kyle!" shouted Heath, as he turned his brother onto his side and wiped the vomit from his mouth. Luckily, he hadn't managed to choke himself on it, and he was still breathing. "Come on, mate?! Don't do this to me, please?!" pleaded Heath, "You have to stay with me!" He looked up at Alf as the older man got off the phone with emergency services and shook his head at him. He couldn't believe that Kyle had done this to himself.

Alf stooped to pick up the empty whiskey bottle on the floor and shook his head a little sadly. At least there didn't seem to be any pills of any kind, he thought to himself, if you could count that as a positive. It didn't look like a suicide attempt.

"Jesus!" exclaimed Heath, when he saw the empty bottle, "Did he drink all of that?!"

"Looks like it…" said Alf, "And from the state of him, I'd say it was full when he got his hands on it."

"Is that enough to kill him?" asked Heath, with a look of real concern. He'd drunk more than his fair share of whiskey in his time but he didn't think he'd ever drunk quite that much, or gotten himself into this bad a state. Kyle looked half-dead.

"With his kidney?" sighed Alf, "I reckon so."

"Oh God!" groaned Heath. He'd forgotten about Kyle's kidney transplant. "How could he be so fucking stupid?" he asked, before turning his attention back to his pale-faced brother. He didn't know how they were going to cope if Kyle had to have another transplant. Would he even be allowed to have another one, if he'd recklessly trashed the one he'd been given?

Alf dropped to his knees and positioned Kyle a little more into the recovery position. "I think we're gonna have to make him be sick." he said, "He needs to throw some of that rot back up."

"What, like stick my fingers down his throat?" asked Heath, as he stared at his unconscious brother. He just wished that he'd gotten to him sooner. All that time wasted banging on the door outside, and all he really had to do was call Alf Stewart and get him to bring down the emergency set of keys. Thank God for early morning fishing trips!

Alf just nodded and took hold of Kyle's head to hold him still.

"You're sure this is a good idea?" asked Heath, grimacing a little as he forced his brother's mouth open and began to shove his fingers inside. It was a strange thing to have to do to someone else

"If you want him to live" answered Alf, as Kyle began to retch.

* * *

 _Suddenly he was on his side on the bathroom floor and Jessica was forcing her fingers down his throat to make him vomit again._

" _Come on?! You little shit!" she was roaring at him, "Bring it up! …You do not get to die on me tonight!"_

 _She'd held him under for far too long this time and he'd inhaled and swallowed a lot of water. He was pretty sure that he'd died for a few minutes because his ribs hurt from where she'd given him CPR. It wasn't the first time that it had happened but he must have scared her this time because she'd never been quite this rough. He wouldn't have been surprised if his ribs were broken._

 _He should have been scared, but all he felt was dazed and numb. Part of him was a little sad that she hadn't been more thorough. He wished that she'd just killed him._

 _He also didn't know why she was trying to make him throw up. She'd never done that before… but then this was the first time she'd drowned him in a bath of bleach. Was it because he'd swallowed so much of it? Was that what she was worried about?_

" _Come on?!" she coaxed, "Get it all up… That's it…"_

* * *

He tried to twist his head away, but hands held him down. "Wuh?" he choked out around the fingers in his mouth, before a burning flood of vomit came rushing up his throat. He couldn't stop it. "Bleuuurrrrrgghh!" he choked out, as most of the bottle of whiskey he'd drunk sploshed out on the floor. He hardly managed to draw a breath before he retched again, and coughed as he almost choked himself on it.

"That's it young fella" said a deep voice that he thought he recognised, "Get it all out."

' _Where's Jessica?'_ he thought to himself, as his stomach rolled again and another revolting stream of liquid rushed up his throat, ' _And whose was that male voice?_ '

A hand was stroking his back in a kind and gentle way. Rubbing circles and murmuring soft words of encouragement. It couldn't be Simon. He was never kind.

As soon as he stopped vomiting, the fingers were back again, and he was made to vomit two more times.

"Stop it!" he whined, once he caught his breath this time, snot and tears streaming down his face from the effort. "I can't… I can't!"

"Okay, okay" said another voice, "The ambos are here, mate… Just stay with us, okay? Just try to stay awake… I can hear them on the stairs…"


	33. Chapter 33

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Once again, a massive apology for the long delay on this chapter! I have been up to my eyes the last few weeks with work and just haven't had time. Thank you to everyone reading this, but especially the lovely lovely peeps who have commented. You have no idea how much your feedback means to me. Without you (Zoe-eoZ, Braxton54, Pembie, FrankElza, and Braxtonboyzz123) I wouldn't have the incentive to keep on writing. So, thank you all very very much! Mwah mwah! You're lovely! Xx**

 **Not sure about this chapter… but hey… better than nothing…**

* * *

 **Chapter 33**

 **i.**

' _No, no, no, no!'_ he began to scream in his head, ' _Oh god! Please?! No! Not again!'_

He'd only just come round but hands were touching him. _Hands_. Everywhere. And they were _touching_ him… Hands on his skin, poking and prodding, and fiddling with him. And he was naked. At least, he thought he was… He could feel the air wafting across his bare skin, and someone was touching him. Someone was touching him _down there_.

' _No, no, nooo!'_ he cried in his mind, _'Why is this happening again?! Why now?!'_

…And he tried to move. He tried to get away… pulling as hard as he could and desperately trying to move his body away… But he couldn't… He _couldn't_!

There were hands on his wrists and his ankles and someone was holding his waist, keeping him bound to the bed. And there were hands, holding him down, and making him stay still. He couldn't get away from the hands that just _kept_ touching him. He couldn't get away! He couldn't make them stop…

 _And he was on a_ _bed._

 _And people were touching him… And hands were holding him… And he couldn't get away…_

This was all too familiar.

' _It's happening again'_ he thought, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. His whole body was shaking as he clenched his fists and held his breath. He wasn't ready for this. He didn't think he could deal with this again after all these years.

And he was scared to open his eyes…

But he could hear voices. He couldn't make out what they were saying but he could hear them, hanging over him, by his head and right beside him, and by his feet. Lots of voices. They just swirled around him, strange and muffled, and warped as though he was under water. The fact that he couldn't understand their words was just adding to his fear and anxiety. What did these people, these _hands_ , want with him? What were they _doing_ to him?

He tried to listen but he wasn't conscious enough to understand. They didn't seem to be talking to him, but then that was to be expected. He was just a body to be used, after all. That was why they had him held down. So he couldn't fight back. Why would they bother to talk to _him_?! It wasn't like they were going to give him a choice.

There was never a choice…

He'd been in this position before. Too many times.

He cracked his eyes open, but as soon as he did, his brain was assaulted by bright white light and he had to clamp them closed again. There were bright lights directly above his head and blurry figures gathered all around him. Just like he'd feared.

His brain began frantically joining the dots. He had no idea how he'd got here… but somehow he was 'upstairs' again. It was always so bright up here. So bright when they brought him up from the basement… And bright light only ever meant one thing! Bright light meant pain, and degradation, and more pain… It meant they were filming. They had to be. It explained why he was lying down like this, with all these people around him. Why he felt so woozy. Why he felt so sick. They must be making one of Simon's 'special' movies, he thought. That was why there were so many people here.

This was going to be a very bad night.

As though to prove him right, a hand was suddenly on his groin, and he had to fight the urge to cry out in shock. To beg them to stop. _He didn't want this! He didn't want this! He didn't want this!_ He began to thrash and growl but the hands on his body became more insistent then, holding him firmly, and people were shouting, and then he felt straps being tightened around his wrists and ankles. Someone said something to him, right beside his ear, and it sounded like a warning. Something snarled. Probably a threat? He realised that he couldn't get away. They had him outnumbered, and his body felt weak and heavy from whatever drug they'd given him. He was trapped!

He wanted to ask them to stop, but he knew that begging wouldn't help. In fact, it usually made them hurt him more. They enjoyed making him beg.

' _Better to be quiet'_ he told himself, _'Always better to be quiet_.

Years of conditioning stepped back into play. He knew what he had to do…

He concentrated on stilling his body. Holding every muscle in his body tense. Not breathing.

There were voices again, and someone was shaking him by the shoulders. Someone was saying something to him, close by his head in an insistent sort of way… Barking at him!

 _Probably Simon._

' _He must be angry'_ he thought, bracing himself for his punishment, ' _He wants me to participate.'_

Then a hand was on him again, and another one was wiping at him with something wet. He gasped, releasing the breath he'd been holding when he felt a squirt of something cold hit his sensitive flesh. _'Lube'_. The word hung in his head, like a black cloud, the implications of it sending shivers down his spine. His heart was racing.

What was Simon going to do to him this time?! He was so terribly scared.

He winced as the hands began to move again… fumbling… fiddling… and then… to his horror, something hard was being pushed _inside_ his penis!

' _Nooooooo!'_ he screamed inside his head, but he clenched his teeth to stop the word escaping his lips. He'd been trained well. _Always better to stay quiet_. Simon would only hurt him more if he protested. He might even take his tongue, like he'd threatened.

He kept his lips pressed tight… as though that would stop Simon. As though _anything_ he did could stop _him_.

He could feel his heart thumping in pure animalistic terror as the 'thing' was slowly inserted. It hurt. Not really badly, but enough to make him squirm… It wasn't really the stinging discomfort that distressed him most, it was the fact that he had to just lie there and let Simon do it. _Again_ … The loss of control sending him into a full-on panic attack. He was still strapped down and the hands were still holding him in place… and he couldn't _move_.

And now he was hyperventilating. He'd had a lot of horrible things done to him over the years, much worse things than this… But _this?_! This was new… and that's what scared him. He didn't know what Simon was doing. He didn't know what was coming next. He couldn't prepare himself.

What if Simon and these people really hurt him this time? What if they did even worse things than they used to?!

"Kyle?! Kyle?!" came a loud voice, "Kyle, mate, I need you to calm down for me? Mate, if you can hear me, can you try to open your eyes?"

He shook his head and clamped his eyes even tighter. The hand was gone from his manhood now, but that only made him more frightened. What was Simon going to do to him now, he wondered? What had already been done to him? What was the purpose of the 'thing' he felt still lodged inside him? As much as he pulled at the restraints on his wrists, he couldn't get free, and that terrified him! He felt so exposed and vulnerable!

His chest began to really hurt as his heart beat even faster. The panic was overtaking him now. He couldn't breathe!

"Kyle! Open your eyes!" ordered the voice, using a more authoritative tone, "Open your eyes and look at me!"

He shook his head quickly. He knew the voice wasn't Simon but he didn't know why it wanted him to open his eyes? What horrible thing did it want him to see?

"Kyle, you're hyperventilating" said the voice, and a hand held his shoulders down. He didn't realise that he'd been arching his back until he was pushed back down. Every muscle in his body was tense.

"I need you to try to calm down…" continued the voice, "Now I know you can understand me, and I know you're scared, but you're getting yourself in a state, and that's not good... I'm not going to hurt you…"

He almost snorted at that. As though he was going to fall for more of their lies! _'I'm not going to hurt you',_ he mimicked inside his head _._ He'd been told that before, so many times, but then they'd hurt him all the same. They'd _all_ hurt him! They'd all lied to him. Some had even tried to tell him that it would feel good, but it hadn't. It had never felt good.

"Kyle, listen to me…" continued the voice, "I know you're freaking out … but you're okay… You're in the Northern Districts Hospital… You're in the hospital… and we're just trying to help you… My name's Dr Murphy and…"

' _Hospital?!'_ he gasped in his head, eyes flying open and searching frantically, _'I'm in the hospital?! …I'm not in the Hames house?!… Is… Is that true?'_

"That's good… That's good… Now, just try to focus on me, Kyle…" coaxed the voice, as a dark silhouette stared down at him, "Can you do that for me? I need you to come back from wherever you are in your head right now. Whatever it is you're remembering, it's not real… You're in the hospital... No-one here is going to hurt you, so I need you to stop pulling at these restraints… and I need you to take a few deep breaths and talk to me."

Kyle blinked frantically as he tried to focus. Slowly a fuzzy face began to appear and he found himself staring at a bearded face and soft blue eyes. There was a kindness there that he hadn't been expecting, concern written all over the man's face.

"There you go" clucked the doctor. He was visibly pleased to have his patient back with him, and at least partially lucid. "Do you know where you are?" he asked.

Kyle's gaze left him for a moment while he stared around the room. "H-hospital?" he choked out, wincing a little at the hoarseness in his throat.

"That's good, Kyle" smiled the doctor, "Do you know what day it is today?"

He thought for a moment and then shook his head. He didn't know what day it was and the absence of that information scared him. Why couldn't he remember?!

"That's okay" said Dr Murphy, "Don't worry about that… Do you know what happened?"

"No!" he grunted out, "I don't… what… w-why?" His trust in the man was beginning to wane. Why was he torturing him like this?! Why couldn't he just tell him what was going on?! He began to pull at the restraints on his wrists again. He wanted to get away.

"Kyle, listen, I need you to calm down" said Murphy, as he put a hand on his patient's wrist. "You're okay… You're okay… Come on, deep breaths…"

"Stop touching me!" Kyle rasped out. He was staring down at the hand as though it was burning his skin. Right now, it might as well have been. "Please just… Just stop… stop touching me…" His voice had almost become a whine. The need to be free was becoming overwhelming.

There was a pause, before Murphy began speaking to the others around the bed, and then the hands began to retreat. First the ones holding his ankles, and then the ones on his torso. He looked down at his wrists. They were still tied to the bars at the side of the bed but the hands had been removed now. He redirected his gaze at the doctor now standing behind his head who was looking down at him with thinly veiled pity.

"Take them off!" he begged, balling his hands into fists and pulling at the wrist straps. "Please?! Take them off! …I need them off! Please?! Pleasepleasepleaseplease?! I'll be good, I'll be good…"

There was a moment's hesitation before the doctor rested his hand on his patient's fist again and squeezed. It was obviously meant as a comforting gesture. "I'm sorry, Kyle" he said, "I can't do that."

"Why not?!" whined Kyle, as he continued pulling and twisting at the straps. The feeling of being trapped was sending him into a panic again. How could they not understand that?!

"I'm sorry, mate, but you became combative in the ambulance" explained Murphy, "…and in the emergency room… and you're getting yourself wound up again …So I'm sorry, Kyle, but I'm gonna need to be sure you're not a risk to yourself or to the rest of my staff before we can take them off you."

"Please?!" he begged again, "I won't fight anymore… I just…"

"They're for your own good" said Murphy, with a firm shake of his head, "I don't want to have to sedate you… but I will."

"You won't take them off?" he tried one more time.

"No, Kyle, I'm sorry" answered the doctor, "Not till psych gets down here and says it's okay."

He dropped his head back onto the bed and closed his eyes in defeat. His heart was beating far too fast, thumping and thumping, and aching in his chest. Sedation sounded like sweet release right now, if only it wouldn't mean leaving his body tied down and defenceless. He couldn't do that.

' _Sedation'_ The word played over in his head. Had they already given him something? Was that why he was feeling so strange? Was that why he felt so nauseous?

"Kyle?" asked the doctor, lightly touching his shoulder, "You still with us?"

"I don't feel good" he answered, raising his head to look down at his body. He was surprised to see that he and the doctor were the only ones left. The nurses had quietly slipped out of the room without him noticing. Had he been asleep?!

He frowned when he saw that he was completely naked but for a light blanket draped over his lower half and a number of restraint belts buckled across him. He'd clearly been catheterised because a tube of brownish urine disappeared over the edge of the bed to a bag hooked on the side. Suddenly, he understood what the 'thing' inside his urethra was - a catheter tube! He also had a multitude of electrode stickers on his chest, hooked up to wires, and an IV cannula in the crook of his arm. He glanced at the doctor in a worried sort of way. "What… What's wrong with me?!" he asked.

"Okay, well" sighed the doctor, as he rolled a wheelie stool over to sit by his head, "It's not good news, Kyle… But it could be a lot worse… You're in renal failure, and we've had to put you on dialysis…"

"But… but I'm… I'm allergic…" stammered Kyle with a frightened glance at the dialysis machine.

"Yes, we saw from your records that you had an adverse reaction before" nodded the doctor, "But we've managed it better this time… Used a different mix of meds… and so far, so good…" He gave a little sigh, "But you _have_ been pretty out of it…"

"My head hurts" moaned Kyle, dropping back against the bed and closing his eyes. The fact that he was in renal failure hadn't really registered yet. He was still too fuzzy and confused.

"I wouldn't wonder" replied Murphy, "After the feed of drink on you when you were brought in…"

"Drink?" asked Kyle, glancing up at him with confusion in his eyes. He didn't remember drinking.

"Yeah, that bottle of whiskey you decided to drown yourself in" said Murphy, with a disapproving little half-smile, "You don't remember?"

Kyle shook his head and closed his eyes again for a moment, taking deep breaths through his nose. His head was hammering, and he thought he was going to throw up, but at least his breathing was evening out. The tight pain in his chest was slowly dissipating too. He felt like he was riding a rollercoaster, going into sheer panic one minute, and fighting to bring it under control the next. It was horrible.

"It's a good thing your brother found you when he did" explained the doctor, "With your kidney, and your anti-rejection meds, it could have been very serious… You'll need to be on dialysis for a day or two probably, but you're responding quite well..." The doctor smiled down at him then, relief apparent on his face. "You've been very lucky."

Kyle shook his head and let out a broken sort of laugh. 'Lucky' was not a word he would ever use to describe himself.

Just then the door opened and a nurse asked Dr Murphy to follow her out to the hallway.

"Back in a moment" said Murphy, giving Kyle's hand a little pat before getting up and leaving the room. Kyle lay there for a minute or two, listening to the insistent beeping of his heart monitor, and the whir of the dialysis machine, before he lifted his head to see where Dr Murphy had gone. While part of him was relieved to be left alone, another part was far too aware of being tied to a bed, vulnerable and naked. He was scared.

He looked out into the hallway and gave an exasperated huff when he realised that his counsellor was out there, one of the hospital Psychiatrists that he'd been seeing for a few weeks since his first admittance. That was the last person that he wanted to talk to right now. And he'd thought that this day couldn't get any worse!

"Kyle?" said the man, opening the door and walking over to stand beside the bed, "I think you and I need a little chat, don't you?"

* * *

 **ii.**

"Oh, my God!" exclaimed Jenny as she ran through the doors into the waiting area where Heath and Tamara were sitting. She'd clearly been crying. "Is he okay? Have you heard anything?!"

David was following close behind her, red-faced and worried looking, and caught up just as Heath stepped forward to greet them. "Have they said if he's going to be okay? You came in with him, didn't you?"

"We're still waiting" said Heath, as he shook hands with David, and gave Jenny a little kiss on the cheek, "They kicked me out when we got here…"

"How was he?" asked David, with a glance towards the double doors that everyone else was staring at. "We got here as fast as we could" he said.

"He's in pretty bad shape" said Heath, "I mean… he wasn't making much sense in the ambulance… It was like he was somewhere else…"

Heath had been shocked to see Kyle so disoriented and confused when he'd woken up on the way to the hospital. He'd started thrashing around and screaming like he thought they were the same as those sickos that had hurt him when he was little. Heath had tried to reason with him, but terrified eyes had just stared right through him, a raspy voice pleading and pleading not to be touched. Not to be restrained. It was pitiful, but Kyle hadn't even recognised him. His own brother! Nothing they said or did seemed to be getting through to him. They'd had to sedate him in the end.

"They said he might have stuffed up his kidney…" sighed Heath, "It's probably why he was so confused… They said that can happen when your kidney shuts down… Too many toxins in the blood."

"But he was awake?" asked Jenny, "I mean, that's a good sign, isn't it?" She sounded so hopeful.

"I dunno" huffed Heath, as he went to sit down again. He rubbed his face in his hands in a tired sort of way. This had been a stressful night. "He was awake" he continued, "…but it's not like he was really there… I had to help them hold him down…"

"He drank a whole bottle of whiskey?" asked David, with a sad shake of his head.

"Yeah, I think so… I mean, we found an empty bottle beside him" answered Heath, "I made him throw most of it up though…"

David nodded and glanced back towards the door. He just wanted someone to come out here and tell them what was going on.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" asked Jenny, as she turned to look at her daughter in law.

Tamara was sitting with Noah held tightly to her chest as she rocked him back and forth. She had a dazed and distant sort of look, almost like she was in shock, and she had dark circles around her eyes. She hadn't slept all night.

"Tamara?" repeated Jenny, as she took a seat beside her and placed a hand softly on her knee, "How are you holding up, honey?"

"I'm fine" she replied in a stiff sort of way.

Jenny gave her a sympathetic little head tilt and a look that said ' _I know you're not fine, but I'll let it go for now'_

"Why would he do something like this?" asked David, as he sank down on his hunkers against the wall. "He… He knows he can't drink… Why would he do something this stupid?!"

Kyle had told the Summers about his kidney transplant a few days ago when they'd noticed him popping pills. They knew he needed to watch his alcohol consumption and look after himself if he didn't want to end up on a transplant list again. It seemed incredibly reckless to then go downing a bottle of whiskey when he knew exactly what the repercussions would be. Had he been trying to kill himself?! Surely, there were easier ways?!

"He's just not thinking straight" said Heath, "I think it's all just been too much for him, and everything with these…. these Italians… It was just too much, too fast."

"Italians?" asked Jenny, "His family's Italian?!" Heath had explained briefly, but hadn't gone into a lot of detail. They knew that Kyle's birth family had been found and that he had a twin brother. They also knew that he'd been abducted and that his family desperately wanted to be reunited with him.

"Yeah" answered Heath, "Some restaurant owners from Sydney…

His voice trailed off when he saw the double doors swing open. It was the same doctor that had pushed him out of the emergency room when Kyle had been brought in.

"Is… Is he okay?!" asked Jenny, jumping to her feet and taking a few steps forward.

The doctor glanced at Heath and then back at the older woman in a questioning sort of way.

"I'm his… his…" stammered Jenny, still unsure of what to call herself.

"His mother" said Heath, stepping forward and finishing the sentence for her, "That's his father… and over there is his wife and baby… We're all family."

"Okay" answered Dr Murphy, with a little smile, "Good to see he has plenty of support."

"Doc, is he okay?" asked Heath, standing with his arms crossed across his chest.

"Physically, he will be… in a day or two" said the doctor, motioning for everyone to come and sit down. They shuffled over and took the seats around Tamara and he sat on one of the seats opposite. "Right, well, he's on dialysis" he explained, "But that'll only be for a day or two… He's stabilising quite quickly so we're less worried about that at this stage… He's been very lucky." He glanced around the worried faces and gave a tight little smile. This was always hard. "What we're more worried about is his mental state…" he continued, "He's displaying some very serious symptoms of PTSD and… probably clinical depression… His counsellor, Dr Monroe, is worried that tonight may not have been a simple case of drinking too much. We're not saying he tried to… to hurt himself, but we need to make sure he's not a danger to himself."

"So, what are you saying?" asked Heath, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. The Braxton in him was already railing against any authority figure stepping in and taking control. He instinctively wanted to protect his brother from the 'big bad doctors'. He was positively growling inside.

"Dr Monroe is recommending he be placed on a 48-hour psych hold" sighed the doctor, "…for further assessment… and I agree with him."

"You're not locking him up!" exclaimed Heath, leaping to his feet and forcing the doctor to follow suit, "He's not crazy! He's just… a bit…"

"I think you know he needs help" said Dr Murphy, refusing to be intimidated.

"You don't really think he did this on purpose, do you?!" asked David, now standing beside them. He didn't want to believe it.

"Of course, he didn't!" growled Heath, "He just wanted to blow off some steam… We all do it." He didn't really believe what he was saying but he felt like he had to defend his brother. It was a sort of mindless loyalty that had been ingrained in him from a young age.

"Mr Braxton" scolded the doctor, "Your brother chose to drink an entire bottle of whiskey tonight, in the full knowledge that he was putting his life at risk… He knows the dangers of drinking on his meds… but he did it anyway." He sighed and shook his head. "And only a few days ago… he was admitted for self-inflicted burns on his arm… This isn't an isolated incident!"

"No, but he…" Heath began to protest.

"Mr Braxton" he replied, with a frown, "Kyle is showing some very worrying behaviour and, quite frankly, some of the things he said while he was sedated have me very concerned!" His voice was beginning to show his annoyance. He'd had a long shift and his nerves were a little frayed at the edges.

"He was out of it!" argued Heath, his voice getting louder.

Jenny threw David a glance, not liking where this seemed to be headed. She knew that Heath was a little hot-headed, not unlike his non-biological brother, but she didn't want things to get out of hand.

"I can't just ignore what I heard" answered Murphy.

"He didn't know what he was saying!" yelled Heath, "People says all sorts of things when they're on drugs!"

"I know that" nodded the doctor, "But this was more than just confused ramblings… He was having flashbacks…Memories, not hallucinations. I've seen enough traumatised patients to recognise PTSD when I see it… So, I'm sorry that you don't agree, but Dr Monroe will decide the best course of treatment… AND what happens next."

"What _does_ happen next?" asked David, trying to calm things down a little, "I mean, after the 48 hours… if Dr Monroe thinks he needs more help?"

"There are residential facilities…" the doctor began to answer.

"I am not letting you lock him up!" roared Heath, suddenly lurching forward and gripping the doctor by his shirt, "He doesn't need the kind of help you're talking about!"

"That is not your decision to make!" answered Murphy, staring Heath in the eye and refusing to back down, "I won't be told…"

"I'm taking him home!" snarled Heath.

"No, you're not!" argued the doctor, "And if you try to, I _will_ call security!"

"SHUT UP!" came a sudden loud shout from behind Heath, "JUST SHUT UP! …BOTH OF YOU!"

They both whirled round to look at Tamara. She'd handed Noah to Jenny and was standing there with anger burning in her eyes. Her fists were clenched at her sides.

"Can you two stop having this pissing contest, or whatever it is you're doing… and just shut up?!" she growled at them, "Kyle is my husband... and I know him better than either of you!"

Heath furrowed his brow at her. He couldn't really argue with her about that. He hadn't exactly been the best brother over the years, even if he _was_ making up for things now.

"And Kyle…" she began to say, her voice shaking as she started to cry, "Kyle is scaring me right now… I just don't know what he's going to do next. He needs help, and if Dr Monroe… If he thinks that Kyle needs to stay here so he can get that help, then I'm not letting you take him out of here…"

"But Tam?" Heath argued, "Tam, he won't want to stay..."

"Over my dead body!" she said firmly, "He _NEEDS_ help!"

"I think Tamara's right" said David, "He won't like it, but we can't let him go on like this…"

Heath stared at her for a long moment, and then at David, before letting go of the doctor's shirt and shaking his head in a disappointed way. He knew that what they were saying was right, but he also knew that Kyle wouldn't want to be held here against his will. He knew exactly how he would react himself in his brother's position. It wouldn't be pretty! He'd probably smash the place to pieces! "He won't forgive you for this, y'know?"

"I know" said Tamara, smiling in a sad way when she felt Jenny's hand slip into hers. It was a relief to know that she had the support of her in-law's, if nothing else. "But it's a risk I'm willing to take…"


	34. Chapter 34

**Author's note: Okay, so you're probably fed up with my usual 'sorry this is so late' message at the start of every chapter, but… yeah, sorry it's taking so long. Life is just busy at the mo! Thank you to Zoe-eoZ, FrankElza, Pembie, Braxtonboyzz123, and Braxton54 for all of your support. You have no idea how important your feedback is. I've said it so many times now, but without your comments, I wouldn't be writing this. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!**

 **Hope you like this one… Again, I'm not so sure about this one but here we go…**

* * *

 **Chapter 34**

 **i.**

Three weeks later…

"Damn it!" grunted Heath, as he looked at the mess he'd just made.

He'd dropped a tray of drinks, sending three beer bottles and two glasses of wine crashing to the floor. There was glass and alcohol everywhere and red wine splashes all over his jeans. He shook his head at the crowd of rugby players that had started cheering and clapping as soon as they'd heard the crash. He sent them an intimidating glare before dropping to his hands and knees to start picking up the larger shards of glass.

"I'll clean it up" said Ash, as he rushed back over towards the bar, "You get the drinks sorted."

Heath ignored him, and continued to pick up shards of glass. He just wanted to get it done. The last thing he needed was one of the customers cutting themselves.

"Mate?" said Ash, returning with a brush pan and gesturing for him to get up, "Let me do it…"

Heath looked up at him and dropped the last piece of glass on the tray. "Thanks mate" he said, as he picked up the tray and went to walk past him.

"Heath?!" gasped Ash, "Is that blood?"

Heath stopped and looked at his arm. There was blood dripping like syrup from a number of gashes on his fingertips, and one particularly deep cut on his thumb. He hadn't even noticed.

"Fuck!" he grunted out, as he dropped the tray on the bar and turned his hands to look at the wounds a little closer. Now that he knew they were there, they began to sting. "Shit shit shit!" he hissed, grabbing for a cloth off the bar to wrap his hand in.

"That looks bad" said Ash, grimacing a little as he walked past him around the bar to get the drinks himself. He started opening beer bottles and quickly put the drinks order back together and then beckoned for one of the waitresses to come over and take it. "Maybe you need stitches?" he suggested, when he saw how quickly the wound was bleeding.

"Nah it'll be fine" he answered, "I'll go see if we have any bandages in the back."

A few minutes later, Ash came through the kitchen door, with a look of relief, and made his way straight over to Heath in the store room. It was the only quiet area in the kitchen and also where they kept the first aid kit. "Matt's here now, Toni's on her way…" he said, as he came to stand beside him, "So, I'm gonna take my break now… and I reckon you can shoot through… Maybe get that looked at properly?"

Heath gave a little nod. He was standing with his back against the shelving, holding his bandaged hand against his chest. He had his eyes closed.

"You okay?" asked Ash.

"Yeah" sighed Heath, "I'm just peachy…" His voice was both sarcastic and depressed.

Ash frowned. He knew why Heath was so distracted these days. Heath had tried to see Kyle again this morning but the hospital had told him the same thing. _'He doesn't want to see you'._ Plain and simple _._ Kyle had been refusing to see anyone for weeks now. The hospital had to respect his wishes so no-one had been able to get past the front door.

"He'll calm down eventually" said Ash, "I mean, he probably… He probably just needs some time to…"

"It's been three weeks!" snapped Heath, "Three weeks!"

"Yeah, I know…" sighed Ash. He knew how hard it had been on both Heath and Tamara not to be able to see Kyle, and how much tension it had been causing in the family. There had been endless fights. Endless yelling matches. Sometimes the Summers and Bianca got involved too. It hadn't been pretty. Heath hadn't been sleeping and he was looking more than a little worn around the edges. No wonder he was making mistakes and tripping over his own feet. "Mate, he'll get better…" he began to say.

"He's stopped talking" said Heath, with a shrug of his shoulders, "He isn't even talking to the shrinks, or the other patients… He's just sitting there, staring at the wall like some kind of cabbage. He's _not_ getting better… I didn't want to put him in there in the first place… I said it wasn't gonna work! And now I don't think he's ever getting out again. I mean, what if we never get him back?! Huh?! What if this is it for him?! What if he just stays in there dribbling in his pyjamas? They might keep him locked up in there forever…"

"Ah, come on, mate" said Ash, with a shake of his head, "He'll get through this… I mean, he made it through all that… all that _stuff_ that happened to him… If he did it once…"

"You didn't see him" replied Heath. He was thinking of Kyle's vacant expression. That '50 yard stare' he seemed to have adopted the last time he'd seen him. It was like the man he'd known as his brother wasn't even 'there' anymore. "It's like something's just snapped…" he sighed, "I think he… I think he's given up… Everyone has their breaking point."

"Don't think like that!" scolded Ash, "He'll be okay…"

"I don't think he will" he huffed out, "But I really don't know what to do anymore… I just don't know."

"Mate, you're already doing it" said Ash, "Just being here… keeping his shit together for him until he gets out."

"Yeah, I guess" he sighed. There was a long silence then as they just stood side by side lost in their own thoughts. After a while, Heath rubbed his face with his uninjured hand and then pushed away from the shelves he'd been leaning against. "I think I'm gonna go home" he said, with a sad little smile, "Bianca has an appointment this evening and I wanna go with her."

"Yeah, mate" smiled Ash, "Do something positive, keep your mind off things…" The baby was the only shining light for the family at the moment, and Heath was clearly excited about being a dad again. It was the only time he smiled.

"Yeah" nodded Heath, as he grabbed his jacket and headed towards the door, "See you tomorrow."

Ash watched him go and then fished in his pocket for his phone. He didn't know if he was doing the right thing but he'd already made up his mind. Scrolling to 'Peter Jackson' in his phone, he typed out a quick text message:

'Need to talk' he tapped in, and pressed send. Now he just had to wait.

* * *

 **ii.**

Kyle sat staring at his feet, hands tucked under him, and his head ducked low to avoid making eye contact. He was wearing the blue slip-on slippers that Tamara had brought in for him, a wine coloured hoodie with the sleeves pulled down to hide his bitten finger nails, and a pair of blue tartan pyjama bottoms. He wasn't allowed real shoes because the doctors didn't want him venturing too far from the main house, and they didn't want to risk him hanging himself with his shoelaces. None of his clothing had drawstrings for that matter, and his hoodie was the type that you pull over your head because they had rules about zips too.

He hated this room. It was so 'institutional', even if a concerted effort had been made to make it a little brighter and more welcoming. For all its bright yellows and reds and blues, it was still a large room with plastic seating in one corner and those armchairs with the uncomfortable wooden arms in another. It had strip lighting along its too high ceiling and the kind of scuffed wooden flooring you get in community centres and school assembly halls. There were black marks from where chair legs had been dragged back too forcefully or shuffled along with the occupant still on the seat. It certainly didn't feel like a living-room. And you definitely couldn't fool yourself that it was a hotel or a guesthouse. Not with the faint smell of cabbage that always seemed to linger.

This was a residential care facility for the mentally ill, and he was being held here against his will. They might pretend that he had some sort of choice in all of this, but he was no more free than he had been when the Hames had locked him in that cell. What hurt was that it was the people he loved the most that had put him here. He didn't know if he could ever forgive them for this.

He glanced sideways for a moment at the circle of young adults gathered on plastic chairs around him. They were all dressed in a similar fashion, all elasticated waists and loungewear, but some had even added dressing gowns to the mix. It definitely wasn't cold enough in here to require the extra warmth, so he was fairly sure it was more about hiding their bodies than anything else. Some of them had eating disorders. He couldn't help thinking how these kinds of clothes gave everyone an instant 'mental patient' look, just as much as any uniform would have. They might as well have stamped 'loony tunes' across all of their foreheads.

' _I guess that's what I am'_ he thought a little bitterly, _'Even Tamara thinks so_ … _Even Heath'_

This was one of his least favourite parts of the day, this hour-long group session that they made him attend after breakfast every morning and every evening. It was cringeworthy and invasive, like an emotional enema, and he didn't want to do it. He never participated. Why should he?! Why did they think that sitting around in a circle with a load of other losers would help him?! Why on earth would he want to tell total strangers about the most painful experiences of his life? What business was it of theirs?! It was bad enough that it had made its way into the national news. His face splashed across the papers, in all the social media, and all over the TV. They had to have recognised him. How could they not? But why would he want to own up to it? To say 'Yeah, that was me'. I'm ' _that'_ kid.

He didn't want their pity. He didn't want them to know how pathetic he was.

He couldn't help tutting a little as he turned his attention back to his feet. Voices floated around him but he concentrated on watching his own toes as he wiggled them back and forth inside his slippers. He had pins and needles, a side effect of the anti-depressants he was on. They were making him a little cloudy too, and he kept spacing out and drifting off into his own little world. Numb and empty. He didn't mind so much though. Listening just made him angry, so he actively tried to tune the others out. It was hard to do, but it was even harder to sit there and listen to other people whinge about how difficult their lives had been. None of the others had been through anything even remotely as bad as him and he found it hard not to be resentful.

' _Oh, boo hoo hoo'_ he thought to himself angrily, as one of the others finished their story, _'You have no idea, do you?!'_

He wasn't really listening but the one thing he knew was that they'd all had it easier than him. Everyone had!

This specific group was for victims of childhood sexual abuse and there were men and women in their early to late twenties from all sorts of backgrounds. No two people had the same story, but they'd all suffered. The one thing they all had in common was that someone had hurt them in the worst possible way when they were younger, and that the trauma of that was still having an impact on their adult lives. In one way or another, they were all broken.

There was Tom who'd been touched inappropriately by his father's golfing buddy, Nick who'd been forced to give oral sex to his older brother's friend, and Alison who'd been raped at a schoolies beach party when she was fifteen… There was one girl who'd been sexually abused by a teacher, and a boy who'd been raped by his grandfather… And so many other horrible stories of stolen innocence. So many! It was heart-breaking…

And yet few of them came even close to what Kyle had been through. They'd all had normal lives, in normal houses, with families and friends… They'd gone to school, and played, and done all the normal things that kids do. And okay, something terrible had happened to them that had brought them to this point, but he couldn't help feeling that it wasn't the same. It wasn't as bad as what had happened to him. It just wasn't!

He didn't want to 'share' with these people. He didn't want to tear himself apart and expose his most vulnerable secrets to the group. They wouldn't understand what it had been like for him. They wouldn't understand! None of _them_ had been locked in a dungeon for most of their early lives. _They_ hadn't been forced to make pornography or sold like a common whore. _They_ weren't dirty and used like him… or damaged as badly. Even among a group of victims, he still felt ashamed.

He hated it here!

He hated the resident Psychiatrist even more. Dr Yang was an older man, with a no-nonsense sort of attitude, and what seemed like a very old-fashioned approach to psychiatry. He'd sit there with a clipboard and write notes while his patients spoke. He had a way of asking questions that felt like an accusation, as though what had happened to them was their own fault. Patients came away from his sessions crying their eyes out or slamming doors and throwing tantrums. Unsurprisingly, he and Kyle just didn't get on.

' _Participation is key to recovery'_ he kept telling him. ' _You get out what you put in… You can't expect to get better if you don't do your part.'_

What if there was no 'recovery' for someone like him? What if he was a lost cause?

He pulled his hands out from under him when he heard Jamilla start to speak. She was the only one that half-way interested him. He liked her accent and she had a nice smile, not that she smiled very often. She'd had it harder than the others and he could tell by the haunted look in her eyes that she'd lived through horrors that none of the others could even imagine. He felt a little bit of a connection to her, even if he'd never spoken to her. He sat up a little, subconsciously rubbing at the burn on his forearm through his hoodie.

"So… um… yeah… I mean, the nightmares are getting worse" she said, rubbing at the scars on her neck and sniffing a little. She wasn't crying. She just seemed to have a perpetual cold. "I used to not remember their faces' she continued, staring straight ahead, eyes wide and empty as though she was watching it unfold in front of her, 'Like I'd blocked them out, which is really weird when you think how long they had me and how much I must have stared at them… I mean, I… I kept trying to see them in my head, because… because I thought maybe if I could see them, I could be less scared… Make them more human… Not the figures without faces I see in my dreams all the time…' She let out a big sigh, and ran her hand up her neck into her hair, yanking at it a little angrily. Her sleeve slipped down a little and revealed layer upon layer of scars. 'But I think… I think last night… I… I saw his face…"

She glanced across at Kyle for a moment and seemed surprised that he was listening. He looked down abruptly and she took a deep breath before continuing. Her hand was shaking as she moved it down to her neck again.

"I saw him…' she continued, 'The one who… The one who did it to me first… The one who did it more than any of the others… He said I was 'his', and he was only sharing me with his brothers. I remember staring at his face… He… He had his hand over my mouth, and my nose too… I couldn't breathe… and I remember crying because I didn't want his face to be the last thing I ever saw… He looked like a wild animal… He was hanging over me, and he had my wrists tied… and then… then he was biting me…"

Kyle began to shake. Suddenly he was back in the bedroom the Hames used as a 'studio', and he was being tied down.

 _Three large men loomed over him, one of them dragging his small hands above his head and zip-tying them to the bars of the headboard, and the other two stretching his legs out with ropes and tying them to the base. He wriggled and squirmed, but he couldn't get free. There was no escape. All he could do was squeal when a meaty hand found its way between his legs. It was hurting him. 'Go somewhere else' he told himself, as tears streamed down his cheeks, 'Just go somewhere else in your head'. Simon stepped into view, with a camera held up to his eye and a vicious smile on his face. "Well, boy?" he asked, "You ready to have some fun?"_

* * *

 **iii.**

Dr Yang glanced up from the notes he was taking when he heard one of his patients give a sort of pained yelp. It was quiet. Almost like the sound a small puppy would make. At first he wasn't sure where it had come from. It clearly hadn't been Jamilla, but she'd stopped talking in any case, and had her eyes fixed on another of his patients. He followed her gaze to the young man who was shaking and sweating in his seat with his eyes closed.

'Kyle Braxton' he thought to himself with a little frown. Although there was a note on his file that said he preferred the name 'Summers', it was not his legal name, and Dr Yang was a 'by the book' kind of man. His patient would have to get past this foolishness surrounding his name if he wanted to get better.

This was one of his more difficult patients. Stubborn, taciturn, and with a real dislike of authority figures… He still hadn't managed to get him to say more than a few sentences, and as far as he could see, he hadn't been mingling with the other patients either. He came to the group sessions because they made him, but they couldn't force him to talk. He sat through the 'one to one' counselling sessions in sullen silence, rubbing at the wound on his arm, and staring out the window. Three weeks of anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medication hadn't made the slightest bit of difference. The young man was just as withdrawn as he'd been when he first arrived, even refusing to see his family and friends. He just sat in his room and stared at the wall, or in the common room looking out the window. It was as though he'd simply given up.

Truth be told, the Psychiatrist was at a loss for what to do. He'd never had a patient this difficult before. Of course, he knew what Kyle had been through and it was a great deal worse than what most of his patients had suffered. He'd read Dr Monroe's referral letter, and he'd done a little bit of research into his case, and even spoken to the family, so it was hard not to be at least a little shocked. But so far, he'd heard nothing from the young man himself. He'd begun to wonder if he was the right person for the job. Maybe he needed someone more experienced in dealing with trauma like this? Someone who could build a rapport with him. And maybe it would be better for him to be treated by a woman? It was with this in mind that he'd contacted a colleague of his and asked her to come and see the young man. She was arriving tomorrow.

Jamilla dragged her attention away from Kyle long enough to meet the doctor's eyes. She looked worried. So did he.

"He's having a flashback" she said, a hint of panic in her own voice, "Aren't you going to do something?!"

Dr Yang watched for a moment more, furrowing his brow as the young man held his eyes closed tight and rocked himself back and forth in his chair. Sweat was beading on his forehead, and he had his arms pulled so tight around his chest he was risking broken ribs. It was a wonder he was able to breathe at all! Another little moan escaped his lips and he visibly winced as though in pain.

"No, please?!" whined the younger man, his voice escaping as a pained whisper through clenched teeth.

Dr Yang gave a curt little nod when he realised that all eyes were on the trembling young man. No-one had moved. He set his clipboard down and slowly approached.

"Kyle?" he said, kneeling down beside him and tentatively resting a hand on the young man's knee, "Can you tell me what's happening?"

Kyle's reaction was lightening quick. He let out a sort of howl and threw himself forwards, shoving the man in front of him backwards as hard as he could. The doctor fell with a surprised gasp as the younger man landed on top of him. "No!" roared Kyle, his voice hoarse and choked. "Get your hands off me!" he screamed, as he pulled his fist back and punched the older man hard in the face, "I'm gonna kill you! I have to!" Tears were streaming down his face as he punched him again and again. There was a horrible crunch noise as the man's nose broke and his face flooded with blood. "I have to make it stop!" sobbed Kyle, "I have to make you stop! …It's never gonna stop!"

Some of the other patients jumped up, and suddenly three young men were trying to restrain him, pulling him up and away from the man on the floor. He fought against them as he tried to kick the crumpled heap before him. Now Dr Yang had his arms curled around his head and his knees pulled up to try to protect his abdomen. Kyle got in one more kick before the others managed to stop him and the doctor howled in pain.

"Don't you touch me!" cried Kyle, as hands grabbed his upper arms and dragged him across the floor. He was grunting and wriggling, and trying to get out of their grips. "You sick fuckers!" he screamed as they manhandled him towards the door, "I won't let you do it to me… not again!"

Suddenly there were security guards and nurses everywhere. In a flurry of commotion, Kyle was knocked to the floor and his arm twisted painfully up behind him.

"Please, no!" he whined, as one of the security guards put his knee between his shoulder blades. "Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease…" he begged, the words running into each other. His face was crushed into the floor while they secured his hands in padded restraints.

Once they had his hands secured, the guards flipped him over so he was on his side, and he began to sob even louder when he felt hands on his ankles. He knew what they wanted to do. He knew what was coming…

"Okay" he cried, in a hoarse and broken voice, all fight having gone out of his body. He was pliant as a ragdoll now. "Okay, I'll let you do it…" he offered brokenly, "I'll be good, I'll be good… J-Just please don't make it hurt…" He was almost choking as the words spilled out. His voice verging on hysterical. "I'll be good... pleeheez!"

The guard holding his feet gasped at his words, and then again when the patient pulled his legs up and bent them at the knee, splaying his legs open.

"I'm sorry" sobbed Kyle, closing his eyes and turning his head away in defeat. His whole body was trembling violently. "I'm sorry!"

"Jesus" sighed the guard as he glanced at the nurse, and gestured for the other guards to move the gathered crowd away. "Mate, we're not gonna do anything to you" he said, as he pulled Kyle's ankles back down and attached the restraints just in case. "You're safe, kid… No-one's hurting you…"

The nurse looked at their patient, now placid and limp. His eyes were wide and lifeless. She had a syringe full of sedative poised and ready to go. She wasn't sure whether to use it now or not…

When Kyle let out another broken sob she slid the needle in. Decision made.

"S'okay, sweetheart" said the nurse as she removed the needle and held a cotton wool ball to the pinprick, "This'll make you feel better… Just hold on a second…"

"Please, Jess...ca…" he muttered drowsily, "Please don't do thizz… Please…" He was sure he could feel the shag carpet under his face and the smell of vomit filling his nostrils. It was happening again. That was why everything sounded so slow and distant. "Pleeeeease don' drrrrown me…" he slurred quietly, tears slowly rolling down his face, "mmm... blease… I can't…"

"Oh, honey" sighed the nurse, as she rubbed the injection site on his arm and watched him lose consciousness, "What did they do to you?"

* * *

 **iv.**

"You think maybe you should take a shower?" asked Bianca as she made her way around the living-room picking up dirty dishes and takeaway cartons. "Might make you feel better… Then maybe we could go out for a walk?"

"I took a shower yesterday" mumbled Tamara, as she snuggled into her duvet and continued flicking through the channels, "…and I'm not in the mood to go anywhere." She didn't seem to notice the look of annoyance on Bianca's face or the fact that her friend was cleaning up around her.

"Ehhh… no" said Bianca, "That was four days ago, Tam… You haven't had a shower since Monday!" She went over to Tamara and started pulling at the duvet to lift it off her. "I don't want you to take this the wrong way Tam, but you really smell…"

"I do not!" huffed Tamara, as she fought to keep hold of the cover. She was surprisingly strong. "And even if I do, this is my house! If I want to be smelly, that's up to me!"

Bianca rolled her eyes and yanked the duvet a bit harder. They were playing a sort of tug of war now, but Tamara was winning. "Tam?!" shouted Bianca, "Let go!"

"No!"

"Let go!" she insisted.

"No!"

"Tamara, come on!" pleaded Bianca, "Get up! I'm not gonna let you lie around here like some kind of housebound slob… You're not a teenager, you're an adult with responsibilities… and you need some fresh air…"

Tamara just scoffed at that and buried herself deeper in the covers.

Bianca glanced over at Noah who was happily bouncing up and down in his bouncer chair. "Noah needs to get outside too…" she said, trying a new tack, "This isn't healthy!"

Tamara lifted her head to look over the arm of the sofa at Noah. She had an expression of guilt on her face a she did a few calculations and realised they hadn't been outside in nearly a week.

Bianca took her momentary distraction as an opportunity to get the duvet away from her. "Aha!" she exclaimed as she whipped it away and threw it across the room.

"Bianca!" squealed Tamara, with an angry furrowing of her brows.

"What?!" challenged Bianca, with her hands on her hips, "This place is disgusting! You need a wash… and a change of clothes! What do you think Kyle would say if he could see you like this?!"

"He wouldn't say anything" sighed Tamara, as she reluctantly got up and went to get a glass of water, "He probably wouldn't even notice if I was here or not."

"Don't be silly!" scolded Bianca, as she followed her across the floor, "Of course he'd notice! He loves you!"

"Does he?" she asked, eyes starting to fill with tears and the glass shaking in her hand, "He has a funny way of showing it!"

"He's just upset" said Bianca, "He thinks you had him locked up, but he'll see it was for his own good, eventually…"

"I don't know if he will" she sniffled, "He was so angry, so hurt… I can't blame him… He thinks I betrayed him."

"You didn't betray him" sighed Bianca, "You did what you thought was right. What the doctors said he needed… You can't blame yourself for that."

"But what if they were wrong?!" she asked.

"What else were you gonna do?" reasoned Bianca, "Let him keep hurting himself? Let him take an overdose or burn his skin off… or worse?! Tam, you know he couldn't go on the way he was… I mean, he nearly killed himself, for God's sake!"

"I know" she answered miserably.

"For what it's worth, I think you did the right thing" added Bianca, "If it was Heath, I would have done exactly the same thing! He might not agree with me, but I don't think there was anything else you could have done."

"I wish I believed that" sniffled Tamara.

Bianca gazed at her friend and shook her head a little sadly. She looked so thin and tired, with big black circles around her eyes. This was obviously taking a lot out of her and she was clearly on the brink of tears. "Oh sweetheart, come here!" she said, holding her arms out to her for a hug.

Tamara stepped forward and launched herself into her arms. "I just… I really miss him!" she began to sob, "I want him back, Bee… I need him! ...And I'm so angry with him for all of this… I don't think he knows how much I need him to be okay."

"I know, sweetie" said Bianca, as she rocked the younger woman in her arms, "I know… but he'll be home soon."

"I hope so" she mumbled, face buried in Bianca's shoulder.

After a moment or two, Tamara calmed down, and Bianca gave a sarcastic little smile. "I wasn't joking about that shower, you know?"

"Oh God, sorry!" gasped Tamara, when she looked up and saw Bianca wrinkling her nose in mock disgust. "I must really smell!"

"I put some clean towels on your bed" laughed Bianca, as she stepped away and picked Noah up from his chair. She raised him into the air and started talking in a baby voice to him. "Me and Noah are gonna enjoy some cuddles while mummy goes and gets cleaned up… That's right, Noah, isn't it? That's right!"

"Thanks" said Tamara, with an embarrassed little smile. She made her way out towards her bedroom, but stopped for a moment to pick up her mobile phone that was plugged in on the charger. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the screen. 15 missed calls from The Winchester Institute.

"Oh God!" she gasped, turning to look at Bianca with fear in her eyes, "Something's wrong with Kyle!"


	35. Thirteen Chapter 35

**Author's note: Wooo! This is a long one** **! I can't figure out a way to shorten it because it would mean putting the end section in the next chapter and I don't think that would work. Anyway, bit nervous about this one… Thanks so much to everyone who's reading and especially my lovely reviewers (Zoe-eoZ, FrankElza, Pembie, and Braxton54) You guys rock! I really appreciate your support, each and every one of you! Thanks especially to Zoe-eoZ who gave me some ideas for this chapter. I hope you all like it!**

 **Chapter 35**

 **i.**

Kyle lay on his bed and stared despondently at the ceiling. It was a sea of polystyrene square tiles held together by grey metal strips and there was a horribly bright lighting fixture in the middle that buzzed when it was turned on. At some point, there must have been a water leak because a few of the ceiling tiles were discoloured and stained, and there were three big ugly brown splotches. He just kept staring at them. Trying to make them into other shapes, like elephants, or whales, or things like that. Anything to distract himself from the fact that he was still tied down.

His hands were still cuffed to the metal railings of his bed, and his ankles too. He couldn't stop his heart from racing and he was having to fight the pure panic overtaking his body and the overwhelming urge to escape. All he wanted was to start thrashing around and screaming his head off, but he knew that he had to stay still. They'd never untie him unless he could convince them that he'd calmed down. He had to pretend that he was okay… But he hated this. This feeling of helplessness…

Anyone could do anything to him when he was like this and he wouldn't be able to stop them. How could they not understand how frightening that was?!

In any case, there was nothing that he could do about it. Nothing to do but wait for the nurse to come back. She'd gone to see if she could get sign-off to remove his restraints, but with Dr Yang out of action, they were a little short-handed. An emergency doctor was coming in to cover, but so far, they hadn't arrived. In the meantime, he had to just lie there and try not to have a total meltdown.

He was actively concentrating on his breathing, taking in slow breaths through his nose, and breathing them out through his mouth. In for 20 seconds… hold for 20 seconds… out for 20 seconds… Dr Monroe had been trying to teach him 'grounding' exercises before all of this happened, ways to make himself present in the moment, and stop the flashbacks. It wasn't easy, but he was trying at least.

Not that it had helped earlier!

He couldn't believe he'd lost it like that. To turn on someone like Dr Yang and beat him senseless?! To snap the way he did?! He was shocked at his own actions. Truly shocked.

Dr Yang had a broken nose, a black eye, some minor lacerations to his lip and eyebrow, and a couple of bruised ribs. Nothing too serious, but he was taking a couple of days off to recover nonetheless. The fact that his injuries were relatively mild was little comfort to Kyle. Not when he didn't even remember doing it. When he'd blacked out and woken up tied to a bed. If he could lose it like that and hurt someone without even meaning to, then maybe he did need to be here. Maybe he _was_ a danger and they really did need to keep him tied down?!

He closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. The thought of hurting his family like that terrified him. What if he lost it at Tamara someday? What if he ended up hitting her, or even worse, what if he hurt Noah? Maybe he needed to take himself out of the equation to keep them safe?

"Tamara's better off without me" he said out loud, "Everyone is."

"Who's Tamara?" said a voice that made him jump. The accent was an interesting mix of Australian and Indian. He knew who it was straight away.

 **ii.**

"I'm thinking chocolate mud cake and the biggest cup of coffee" said Bianca, as she and Tamara took a table in the diner, "You up for it? I mean, obviously, I'm getting decaf, but you can have the real thing… I'll try not to be jealous."

"I don't really feel like having anything to eat" said Tamara, as she wiped at her puffy red eyes and quickly checked to make sure no one was looking.

She was feeling a little self-conscious being out in public. People were sure to notice that she'd been crying. They'd just got back from the psychiatric hospital so she was still very upset. They'd met with the staff who wanted to discuss the incident earlier that day, but they hadn't been allowed to see Kyle. It was an absolute nightmare.

"C'mon sweetie, a slice of chocolate cake might cheer you up?" coaxed Bianca.

"I don't think a slice of cake is going to make me feel any better about the fact that Kyle is going downhill…" she replied, "I just can't believe he did something like that!"

"They said he was having a sort of episode… like a flashback" reasoned Bianca, "It's not like he just went out and attacked someone…"

"Yeah, I know" she sighed, "But they're supposed to be helping him get better…" Her voice died away when she saw Phoebe come through the door. She seemed to be positively bouncing as she walked up to the counter and ordered a coffee from Irene. Suddenly Tamara was on her feet and headed straight towards her. It was like she'd just seen red.

"Tam?!" called Bianca, turning to look where her friend was going, "What are you…?!"

"You think you can just walk around like nothing happened?!" shouted Tamara, as she barrelled towards Phoebe. "You destroyed our lives!" she yelled, as she slapped her hard across the face with a loud crack. Irene gasped in shock and covered her mouth.

Phoebe put her hand up to her cheek, her eyes filling with tears. "You can't just hit me!"

"You have no idea what you've done, do you?" snarled Tamara, "He was your friend, Phoebe… Your _friend!_ He trusted you!"

Bianca had caught up with her and was now physically holding her back.

"It wasn't my fault" argued Phoebe, "I didn't know that stuff was on that computer… I told him that… and I didn't tell the journo anything that he couldn't have found out on his own…"

"You're disgusting!" she spat at her, "You sold him out for a few dollars… and now you're walking around like nothing happened… Like you didn't ruin his life. Do you know where he is right now?! Do you?!"

"No" said Phoebe, still nursing her bruised cheek, "He hasn't spoken to me in weeks… Why, where is he?!"

"He's in a psychiatric hospital" said Alf, who'd just appeared beside them at the counter, "And from what I've heard, the bloke's doing it tough at the moment…"

"And that's on you!" said Tamara, with a little sob, "This is your fault!"

"C'mon, Tam" coaxed Bianca, as she began to drag her away, "Let's go… She's not worth it…" She basically pushed her out the door, despite her reluctance to leave.

"I'll never forgive you for this!" warned Tamara, as she was dragged out the door in tears, "And Kyle won't either!"

Phoebe turned back to Irene with a look that said _'Can you believe that?'_ but was met with a cold glare. "What?!" she said, sensing the hostility, "I'm the one that just got assaulted!"

"You sold Kyle's story to the press?" asked Irene, with her arms crossed across her chest, "That was you?"

"Irene, I…" she pleaded, "If you'll just let me explain..."

"No, love" sighed Irene, "I don't think there's anything you can say that'll make something like that alright with me…"

"But I…" she began to say.

"I think you should leave" said Irene, taking the cup of coffee back and sliding her cash back across the counter, "You're not welcome in here anymore, girlie…"

"Or anywhere else around here" added Alf, "Not if I have anything to do with it."

She stared at them for a moment, feeling her eyes prickling with tears. She wanted to argue. To explain that Heath and Kyle had forced her hand by firing her. That she hadn't had a choice… but she knew that it wouldn't fly with Irene or Alf. There was no point.

"Okay" she said, as she picked up her cash, and put it back in her bag, "But I think you're being very unfair…"

Alf shook his head at Irene in an exasperated way. "The girl's got a neck on her!" he said, once he saw her leave, "That's for sure!"

 **iii.**

Kyle lifted his head and turned to look at the doorway. It was Jamilla, leaning against the door with a nervous sort of smile. She had the sleeves of her cardigan pulled down over her hands and she looked like she could just as easily bolt in the other direction as come inside.

"What are you doing here?!" he asked, feeling very self-conscious about his current position, "You here to stare at the freak?"

She stared at him for a moment before looking down the hallway as though to check that the coast was clear. "I just… I just thought I'd come and see how you are" she said, in a small timid voice, "Are you… okay?" Her eyes had drifted to the restraints on his wrists in a wary sort of way.

He rolled his eyes and then dropped his head back to the mattress. "I'm great" he replied sarcastically, "I'm really into bondage… so this is exactly how I like to spend my days."

She gave a little snort and seemed to visibly relax a little. "Can I come in?" she asked, hesitantly moving forward and then stopping again.

"Why?!" he asked, with a furrowed brow. His heart was starting to speed up again. What if she was here to mess with him? He glanced past her to the hallway wondering where the nurse was, or any other staff for that matter. Surely, they shouldn't just have left him here unattended like this?!

"I just want to have a talk" she answered, dithering again in a nervous sort of way.

"What if I don't want to talk to you?" he snapped out at her.

"What else are you gonna do?" she shrugged, still avoiding eye contact, "I mean… staring at the ceiling isn't exactly the most interesting pastime…" She began to make her way towards the side of his bed. "I bet you're bored silly!"

"I didn't say you could come in!" he gasped, looking wide-eyed and scared, and twisting at his wrist restraints again. He didn't like this. He didn't know what to do.

"I'm not going to hurt you" she said calmly, as she pulled a chair over so she was sitting close to his head.

He watched her with obvious trepidation, unable to stop himself from trembling as he lay there. He was embarrassed by his own body's reaction. How could a grown man be so scared of a timid young woman like this?! In his head, he knew that she wouldn't touch him, or do anything to him, but being tied down like this meant that he wouldn't be able to stop her if she did. She could do what she wanted to him and he'd just have to lie there and take it. As always.

His height and muscles meant nothing if he couldn't move. He wasn't a man anymore, not like this, he was back to being the 'Boy'. And that terrified him.

"What do you want?!" he asked, eyes wide with fear.

"Don't worry, I don't bite" she said, with a nervous little laugh, "You don't need to be scared of me." She still wasn't looking at him. She always seemed to look at the floor when she spoke or she'd look at her hands, or into the mid distance. Anything to avoid eye contact. She'd only ever looked him in the eye once and what he'd seen there was immense sadness.

"That doesn't answer my question" he said, shifting uncomfortably, "And I'm not scared of you!"

"Yes, you are" she said softly, "But that's okay."

He shook his head and let out an exasperated huff. She seemed oblivious to his intense discomfort as she made herself comfortable and curled up in the chair. This was the way she always sat, with her arms hugged around her knees, so she looked even smaller than she was. He just wished the nurse would come back so he could curl up as well and protect himself. This was the weirdest set-up ever. Her in her chair like they were just having a friendly chat over coffee, and him flat on his back tied to the bed. Didn't she get how uncomfortable he was with this?!

"I just want to talk to you…" she told him, rubbing her neck in that anxious way of hers. Then suddenly she looked at him. Their eyes met for a moment and she tried to give him a smile but it came out more as a sad little curling of the lips. "…and being an asshole isn't going to make you feel any better…" she added, before looking at the floor again. It was like she was waiting for him to hit her for speaking out of turn.

"You're calling me an asshole?" he asked, with a surprised little snort. This girl was kind of funny, and under any other circumstances he might have laughed.

"Pretty much" she answered honestly.

"Thanks?" he said, frowning a little. He wasn't really in the mood for being teased. "You just go around insulting everyone you meet?" he asked.

"No" she answered, with a sarcastic little smile, "…but I think everyone needs a friend to tell them when they're being an asshole. I'm willing to be that friend for you…"

"So, we're friends now?" he said, with a certain hostility in his voice. He didn't know what this girl's angle was but it was making him nervous.

"Yeah, I think we are" she said, her lips quirking into that sad smile again.

"Well… as my new _friend_ " he ventured, "How about you untie me?"

"No can do" she said, shaking her head, "The nurses would have my guts for garters… but how about I sit here and keep you company until the doctor gets here?"

"You don't have to" he answered glumly, "I'm not exactly good company."

"Maybe not" she shrugged, "…but I don't have anything better to do… and neither do you."

He lifted his head to look at her and then peered into the hallway again. It seemed like the staff had all done a disappearing act. Maybe they were going to leave him like this all day?! Maybe he should be grateful that this girl had taken pity on him and come to visit? Without her as a distraction, he probably would have been losing his mind by now…

"Can you at least help me sit up?" he asked, hoping not to sound too pathetic and helpless, even if that's what he was.

"Yeah, I think I can do that…" she answered, reaching for the controller hanging down the side of the bed, and bringing the bed into a sitting position. "Better?" she asked, once he was upright.

"Yeah, thanks" he answered, flexing his hands. It still felt so strange to be tied up, but he felt a little better now that he wasn't flat on his back. There was a long silence as they sat there, side by side. Jamilla wasn't able to maintain eye contact, but her big brown eyes did flit up to meet his every now and then. Behind the sadness and the apprehension, was a strength that he hadn't seen before. He couldn't help wondering what she was doing there.

"I was worried about you" she said, before shifting her focus to the floor again, " _After_ … well, y'know… after what happened…"

He gritted his teeth in anger. So, _that_ was it?! She'd come to see the vicious animal in its cage?! To stare at the freak show?!

"Why would you be worried about me?!" he growled at her, "I do something like that, and you're worried about _me_?!" He gave an angry little laugh. "Yeah... right."

"Yes" she said quietly, "I was."

"Well, you shouldn't be!" he snapped, "I'm not the one with a broken nose!"

"No, you're not" she agreed, "But losing it, like that… it's pretty scary, isn't it?"

"What do you know about it?!" he demanded.

She looked up at him again with watery eyes. "I scratched my father's face" she muttered quietly, "He tried to calm me down when I was having one of my… I guess, it was probably a flashback… PTSD, they said… He needed lots of stitches."

"You scratched your dad's face?!" he repeated, glancing at her sleeve covered hands. He'd only seen her hands once or twice but he knew that her nails were bitten down to the quick. Maybe she'd only started doing that since?

"Yeah, tried to take his eyes out" she frowned, "I used to have long nails… and I… I went for his face like an angry cat… claws out… I think I thought he was one of _them_."

"Is he okay?" he grimaced, "Your dad?"

"Yeah… I mean, I really freaked him out" she sighed, "But he knows I didn't know what I was doing… I thought I was back with the guys who had me… I mean, you know I was kidnapped? …Before we moved to Australia?"

"Yeah" he answered, "I… I was listening…" He knew that her father had gotten on the wrong side of a sort of 'mafia' back in India, and they'd taken his daughter as punishment for talking to the police. She'd paid a heavy price for her father's honesty. A heavy price indeed. Weeks of torture and rape, and then they'd beaten her and left her for dead.

She nodded and buried her face in her knees for a moment. "I was 13…" she said, "There were five… f-five of them… They kept me for six weeks and… they… they did terrible things to me. I spent months in hospital after I was rescued. Six surgeries… I had to learn to walk again…" Her voice was shaking a little as she spoke. "It's been twelve years but I guess… I'm still a mess."

"I… I'm sorry" he said, looking up at her with guilt in his eyes, "I didn't know it was so…"

"So bad?" she answered with a sad little smirk, although she never met his eyes.

"Yeah" he frowned.

"You thought you were the only one?" she asked, "The only one who was really hurt? The only one who knows how ugly the world can really be?" Somehow her accent became stronger as her anger grew.

"No… I…" he started to say but she cut him off.

"I did it too, you know?" she said, picking at the leg of her pyjama bottoms and avoiding eye contact, "I used to sit here and listen to the others and they'd be telling their stories… and I'd just think _'Shut up and think yourself lucky!'…_ I was so angry! I wanted to scream at them sometimes…"

His face flushed a little red as he listened to her talk. He felt a little ashamed of himself, but even listening to her now, he still felt resentful. How could he admit to her that six weeks seemed like nothing, when he thought about the years of pain he'd been through? The broken bones, the drownings, the beatings, the starvation… the complete and total neglect… the rape… Was he that much of a self-indulgent asshole that he couldn't see her suffering for what it was?! Why was he making it into a competition?!

"I hated them" she continued, "The others I mean... in group… I hated them because they'd only had it happen once or twice, not for weeks… Or because it hadn't been as violent… Or because they got to walk away… and I mean, literally _walk_ away! They didn't spend months in rehabilitation because someone stabbed them and kicked them… and almost killed them… They weren't dumped in a landfill and left to die…" She was staring at the floor now, eyes full of anger, fists clenched. "They didn't have to live with the kind of scars I have…"

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked, feeling his heartrate pick up. He didn't want to talk about this stuff right now.

"Because I see you doing the same thing" she sighed, "I know what happened to you… At least, I know what I saw in the news, and… and I know it was really bad…"

He tensed at that. He knew that the others would have recognised him, but he hated that it was out of his control. That everyone knew about it, whether he wanted them to or not.

"But you think you suffered more than everyone else…" she continued, "You think your suffering is special… and that's why you won't talk in group… Why you don't talk to the doctors… Why you aren't seeing the people who love you and care about you. I did it too."

"That's not…" he began to say.

"Isolating yourself will not help!" she said, quite forcefully, "Starving yourself… cutting yourself… Whatever it is you do to make it feel better…"

He glanced down at his arm and grimaced at the fact that his burns were visible. When he looked up at her again, he saw that she was looking too. "I didn't… I didn't mean to do it…" he said, cringing a little at how false his words sounded to his own ears.

"I didn't mean to either" she said, pulling the sleeves of her cardigan up to show scars on her wrists.

"What did you…" he began to ask.

"I didn't think I could tell anyone what had happened to me" she said, pulling the sleeves down to cover her hands again. "I was so ashamed… I felt so dirty, and broken… and worthless. How do you get over being used like that, and then just thrown away like a piece of rubbish? …But I spent years pretending I could handle it…" she continued, "Refusing to talk about it, to _anyone_ … I just kept saying I was 'fine' and… I was, I guess… Until one day I wasn't…"

"What happened?" he asked.

"I tried to kill myself…" she answered honestly, "I… I cut my wrists… I couldn't do it anymore… I couldn't hold it in."

"I'm sorry" he said, looking at her with concern.

"I just don't want you to make the same mistake I did" she sighed, "You need to start talking before this thing eats you from the inside… It took me a long time to figure out how this whole therapy thing works, but now… Now, I'm going home… I'm leaving in a few days and I'm going to go back home and go back to work part-time… and you know what? I think I'm gonna be okay." She looked up at him, with eyes a little wet with tears. "I never thought I'd say that when my parents made me come here… I never thought I'd be okay ever again."

"Maybe I'm not as strong as you" he mumbled.

"Yes, you are" she chuckled sadly, "You made it this far, didn't you?"

He didn't answer. He turned his head to stare at the ceiling again and let out a shuddery breath. Could he really do this? Was he strong enough to rebuild his life after everything that had happened? Did he even want to try?

"It will help, you know?" she said, reaching out and tentatively taking his hand. He flinched and turned to look at her, eyes full of fear again, but he let her hold his hand nonetheless. "You think it won't" she said, "…but it will… It helps to talk, to say it out loud… You hold things in for such a long time, and you think if you stuff it down like this little ball deep inside yourself that you can keep control of it…"

"I just can't…" he began again.

"Yes, you can" she said, meeting his gaze again and nodding at him, "You can…"

"W-what if I can't?" he asked, looking scared.

"You have to try" she sighed, "Or things like today will happen again and again… and someday you'll hurt someone you really care about… You owe it to… Tamara, was it? Your wife?"

He nodded. She'd obviously seen his wedding ring.

"I haven't seen her here" she said, giving his hand a little squeeze, "Have you been pushing her away? Is that why?"

He gave a tired sigh and started to blink back the tears that were threatening to come. He was angry with himself. Crying was all he needed right now, making a show of himself like a homesick child!

"She's not better off without you" she said, tilting her head at him in sympathy, "I heard what you said… That's not true, even if it looks like that right now."

"Maybe it is true" he said, as tears suddenly started trickling down his cheeks. With his hands tied, he couldn't even wipe them away. "I don't know how to control this thing…" he admitted, "What if I lash out at her? Or our baby? …I don't want to hurt them."

"That's why you have to talk" she answered, "You'll get better… but only if you're willing to try."

"And what if it's not that simple?!" he asked.

"Maybe it isn't" she admitted, "…but it has to be better than this, doesn't it?"

"Looks like I might be out of a job?" said a woman's voice from the doorway.

They both turned to look. There was an attractive woman with brown curly hair swept up into a messy bun. She was dressed in a smart black dress with a mustard coloured belt and a chunky ethnic style necklace around her neck. She had Kyle's medical file in her hand with a pen clipped to the top.

"I'm s-sorry…" stammered Jamilla, as she got hurriedly to her feet, "I checked with one of the nurses if I could be in here…"

"That's okay" the woman smiled back, "That's okay… don't worry. I'm not here to tell you off…. But I do need to have a little chat with Kyle, if that's okay? I'm his new doctor."

Jamilla nodded and turned back to Kyle with a nervous little smile. "I'll see you later?" she asked, "In the common room?"

He nodded at her in a tense sort of way before turning his attention back to the new doctor.

 **iv.**

As soon as Jamilla left the room, the doctor gave a bright smile and made her way over to the side of Kyle's bed. She chose to sit on the bed beside him. "I'm Dr Armstrong…" she said, "But you can call me Rachel… I'm going to be taking over your case for a little while… Just while Dr Yang recovers."

"I didn't mean to hurt Dr Yang" he said, "I really didn't… I kind of… blanked out." He stared down at his bedsheets in a shamefaced sort of way. "Can… can you tell Dr Yang that I'm sorry?"

"He knows" she answered, "Dr Yang is going to be fine… I've spoken to him… He won't be pressing charges, so you can stop worrying about that."

"I'm not worried about that" he growled at her.

"What _are_ you worried about?" she asked, with a sympathetic head tilt.

He stared at her for a moment. There was something comforting about this woman's smile. He didn't know why, but he felt he could trust her. That didn't often happen. It was like when he'd first met Jenny. He just sensed that she was 'good people'.

"I'm worried…" he began, chewing nervously on his bottom lip. He decided to be honest. "I… I'm worried that I'm a danger to people around me… That I'm losing my mind!"

"Well…" she said, as she started to undo the restraints on his wrists, "I don't think you're losing your mind, Kyle… I think you've been through things that very few people could ever imagine… and you've had to be very very strong… You've had to be strong for a very long time…"

As soon as both wrists were released, he began rubbing at the skin on them. As padded as the cuffs were, he still felt like they were a little bruised. He looked surprised when she moved on to his ankle restraints.

"And eventually, Kyle" she continued, "Something has to give… PTSD isn't the result of one traumatic event, not usually… It's a build-up of many individual traumatic events… Your mind and your body, they have to learn to cope with those things in order to keep going… and it's often not in very healthy ways. Most people bottle things up, repress things… They never actually deal with the pain. They don't allow themselves to feel what they need to feel. And, after looking at your file, I think it's fair to say that you've dealt with more pain and more trauma than anyone should ever have to deal with… You've been incredibly strong to get to this point without a major breakdown."

"If I'm so strong, why am I falling apart now?!" he muttered, self-hatred apparent in his tone.

"Why do you think?" she asked, patting his now free ankle. "Why do you think that might be, Kyle?"

"I don't know" he shrugged angrily, "That's why I asked. You're the head shrinker, not me!"

"Kyle, you're not being honest with yourself" she scolded, "And I think you know that."

He sat staring at his bedsheets for what seemed like forever, his knees now pulled up tight against his chest. Where did this woman get off just coming in here and talking at him like she knew him?! She didn't know him. She only knew what she'd read in some stupid file, or what she'd seen in the news. He hated this.

"Kyle, you _can_ talk to me, y'know…" she offered, "There'll be no judgment here… and anything you say to me will be strictly confidential."

"You wouldn't understand" he said, finally breaking the silence, "You don't understand how it feels…"

"I see" answered Rachel, "I couldn't possibly understand… because I'm just a psychiatrist? Just some shrink who's paid to talk to you… Is that it?"

He shrugged and looked away.

"Because you think I don't understand what it's like to have someone hurt you… to be raped… Is that what you think?"

"You can't know what it's like unless it's happened to you" he said quietly, "My family… They think they understand… They think just because they feel sorry for me… because they can imagine what happened… and because I've told them some of it… some of what happened to me… It's like they think they _know_ … But they don't _know_! They don't _know_ anything!"

"And I'm the same as them?" she said, her mouth quirking a little, "I'm just another do-gooder listening to your story and trying to sympathise… but I don't understand… Is that it?"

"Yeah" he answered honestly, "People think they're helping by making me talk about it, but all they're doing is bringing it all back… I don't want to remember! I don't want to think about what those… those…" He rubbed his face in a tired sort of way and let out a shuddering breath. "I spent my whole life trying to forget this stuff and now I can't get away from it. Why can't people just leave it alone?!"

"Because that's worked really well for you" she said sarcastically, "Hasn't it?"

He turned to look at her and frowned when she raised her eyebrows in a challenging sort of way.

"Everything's gone to shit since I started talking about this stuff!" he answered testily, "Everything was fine when I just kept my stupid mouth shut! …Why couldn't I just keep it shut?!"

"You think it was better when you were living a lie?" she challenged.

"It was easier" he answered after a beat, "I had a family… and a name that meant something to me."

"But it wasn't true" she said, with a sad little smile, "It was a lie."

"Yeah… it was a lie" he agreed, "But I didn't know that… so it didn't matter if it was true or not… The lie didn't hurt like this… It didn't make me feel like I was empty… Like someone ripped my heart out and left me with nothing."

"You feel empty?" she asked.

"I feel like there's nothing left. Nothing left of me…" he shrugged, "I had this whole family, and I could have been normal… I could have had a normal life, but it… it was taken from me, and I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about that… I have a twin brother; did you know that?! A fucking twin! How am I supposed to deal with something like that?!" His voice was verging on hysterical now. "…So, I really don't know what you people want from me… It's like you want me to sift through the ashes of my life… It's all been burnt to the ground and there's nothing left... I've lost everything."

"What do you mean you've lost everything?" she asked, "You have a wife and a baby… and from what I've heard, there are a lot of people out there who care about you."

He gave a heavy sigh. She really didn't understand.

"My family have had enough of me" he said, staring out the window, "They locked me in here because they didn't want to have to deal with all my… my _drama_. I don't blame them… It was only a matter of time…"

"You think they sent you here because they don't care about you?" she frowned, "Don't you think they're worried about you? That it's more likely they're trying to help?"

"I think they feel obligated" he sighed, "Because of who I used to be… But I'm not him anymore and there's no point in pretending… Like Tamara, she didn't sign up for this… I'm not the man she married but she's too good a person to say that. To be honest about it. So, she'll stick around until I ruin her life, just like everything else… I ruin everything… Everything I touch turns to shit, always has, always will… And Heath, my brother, he doesn't need me in his life dragging him down. I'm not even blood… So, I'm making it easier for them."

"You don't think Tamara and Heath should get a say in any of this?" she asked.

He shook his head. "They'd stick around out of pity" he answered, "But I don't want that… They'll see I did the right thing eventually… Now, they can just walk away… I don't want to be a burden."

"Well, Kyle" she said, with a little shake of the head, "That's the most self-pitying self-indulgent speech I've heard in a long time… Your family loves you, and I'm pretty sure that Tamara needs you. They've been coming here every day trying to visit you so I don't think any of them see you as a burden… But if you keep this attitude up, they might." She got up off the bed and smoothed down her dress. "Now, I'm going to leave you to have a think about what I've said, and we can have another chat in the morning."

"What if I'm done talking?" he huffed.

"Well, that's up to you, Kyle" she said, with a little half-smile, "But I hope you change your mind."

She walked towards the door but turned around to face him in the doorway. "By the way, there was a young man here earlier asking to see you… a Martin Ashford? I know you've said 'no visitors' but he was very insistent… Would you like to see him?"


	36. Chapter 36

**Author's note: Okay, so the delay on this one is a bit ridiculous! Apologies! Life has just gotten exceedingly busy, with work, and holidays, and abnormally nice weather that makes you want to be outside. I just haven't had much time for writing. The good news is, chapter 37 won't be far behind because I have it partially written already (overflow from this chapter!)**

 **Thanks as always to my fabulously lovely readers (FrankElza, Zoe-eoZ, Pembie, Braxtonboyzz123, and Braxton54) Your reviews mean the world to me! They really do!**

 **To anyone else reading this, it would be lovely if you could leave one or two words.**

 **Anywho… hope you enjoy this one (I'm really not too sure about it, but we'll see…)**

* * *

 **Chapter 36**

Kyle slunk down the hallway outside his room, making his way slowly towards the place that served as a cafeteria. He was still a little groggy, but one of the nurses had come by about fifteen minutes earlier and told him to come for dinner. He wasn't hungry, but he'd learnt the hard way that they wouldn't allow him to miss meals. No matter how upset he was. The last time he'd tried, he'd ended up with staff supervision at every meal, where they'd treated him like an obstinate toddler who wasn't allowed to leave the table until his plate was cleared. He'd quickly gotten sick of fighting them.

He ducked his head in embarrassment and shame when he saw one of the men from the group session at the other end of the hall. He was called Shane or Sean or something like that, and he looked like a River Boy. All messy blonde surfer hair and tattoos. He'd been assaulted in juvie from what Kyle remembered, although he hadn't been paying that much attention. He remembered him as one of the ones that had had to drag him off Dr Yang, and he was fairly sure he'd been the one to help wrestle him to the floor. The blond was plodding towards him, eyes on his feet, like he was lost in his own little world. That guy was the last person he wanted to see right now!

' _What am I gonna say to him?'_ he asked himself, as he slowed to a shuffle. His heart was racing, and he began wondering if he should turn around and run back to his room. He'd never been so embarrassed.

Just then, the blonde surfer in the distance raised his head, and just for a moment they made eye contact. Suddenly, the other man seemed to want to look at anything else but him! His blue eyes were flitting around nervously, making him look like a trapped animal. In a flash, he escaped through a doorway like a skittish bunny rabbit! He couldn't get away quick enough!

Kyle gave a little gasp. Surely, he wasn't that scary?! Not to someone like him! The other guy was much more 'built'; he had to have about 20kg on him! As much as he hadn't wanted to talk to the guy, having him run away from him because he thought he was a psycho wasn't great either. It made him feel like some sort of monster. But then he couldn't exactly blame him really. What was he supposed to think? What kind of person loses it like that and attacks someone for absolutely no reason?! What kind of animal was he?!

He stood for a moment, staring at his feet. He didn't know how he was going to face the others at the session if they made him go tonight. Just the thought of it was making him feel like scratching his skin off.

"It's chicken and salad" came a small dull voice behind him.

"What?!" he asked, spinning round with a startled expression.

"That's what's for dinner" said Jamilla, staring shyly at the floor, her sleeve covered hands twisting nervously together in front of her. She seemed a lot quieter than earlier, a lot more subdued.

"Oh-kay" he said uncertainly. Part of him still wanted to make a mad dash for his room so he didn't have to talk to anyone. Even Jamilla.

"You can sit with me… if you want" she added, as she stepped around him and moved towards the canteen. When she got to the doorway, she looked back at him. He still hadn't budged. She locked eyes with him for a second before looking away again. "You coming or not?" she asked with a hint of impatience.

He glanced back towards his room but frowned when he saw one of the meaner nurses watching him with narrowed eyes. He didn't want to have to argue with her this evening. Suddenly, dinner with Jamilla seemed a lot more appealing. "Yeah, I'm coming" he muttered, before following her down to the doorway.

"C'mon then" she said, beckoning with her head as she led the way inside.

The place was full of noise as fifty or so patients bustled around the dining room. Some at communal round tables already tucking into their food, while others shuffled along the self-serve heated food station at the side. Others were busy filling plastic cups with diluted orange juice or mugs with tea. He glanced around nervously as he stepped inside, half expecting the room to fall silent and everyone to turn to look at him. He held his breath for a moment.

"It's okay" said Jamilla, tugging on his sleeve and leading him towards the hot food.

He grunted when she shoved a plate his way and accidentally hit him in the stomach with it. It hadn't really hurt him. It was made of plastic, like the kind you get at a barbecue, so his reaction was more out of surprise than any real pain. "Thanks" he grumbled.

He reluctantly followed down the line to get some breaded chicken. There were a number of patients in front of them in the queue and one of them was taking his sweet time in selecting the perfect piece of chicken. Kyle rolled his eyes when he saw the man turn each piece of chicken over with the provided tongs while he hmmm'd and hah'd over which one he wanted. He blew out a breath and glanced around the room, becoming more and more restless. He felt even more uneasy when he spotted Tom, one of the patients in his 'group'. That guy was an over-privileged asshole. Kyle bit his lip a little nervously when he saw him talking to the girl beside him, and from the furtive glances in his direction, he could tell that they were talking about him.

"Don't mind them" said Jamilla, pulling at his sleeve to get his attention. She gave him a nervous little smile and motioned with her head for him to look away. "Let them talk… What d'ya care?!"

He nodded in a tense way and followed her along. She lifted the tongs and picked a piece of chicken out. "Give me your plate" she instructed, holding the piece out to him.

He furrowed his brow. "Get your own first" he said, feeling annoyed at her motherly fussing.

"Give!" she ordered, with a look that said she wasn't going to take no for an answer.

He gave an exasperated huff and after a moment held the plate out. "You're really bossy" he said, "You know that?!"

"I know" she agreed, as she dropped the chicken on his plate, and grabbed another, "And you're having two… You don't eat enough…"

"I'm not that hungry" he said, "And what are you? My mum?!"

"No… Just a concerned friend" she shrugged, as she selected one for herself and then motioned for him to follow her over to the salad station. "Someone needs to look out for you… make sure you're not being an idiot."

He sighed heavily and followed after her, shaking his head when he saw that she'd scooped some pasta salad for him. "I can get it myself" he huffed, "And I'm not some pet project for you to play with, you know? I don't need you looking after me… or lecturing me on what I need to do. You're not my doctor, so mind your own business!"

She looked up at him with a look that said she was unimpressed. "You know that's the most I've ever heard you say."

He rolled his eyes and yanked the spoon away from her, slopping the contents of it onto his plate, before plonking the spoon back in the bowl and stalking away across the room. He quickly scanned for an empty table and gritted his jaw when he noticed the number of eyes on him. People were clearly talking about him, even some of the staff. Everywhere he looked there seemed to be people whispering about him. But then, what did he expect?! Beating the crap out of one of the most senior psychiatrists in the place tended to get people gossiping. And maybe they were right to be wary; he felt wound up tight like a spring. Part of him wanted to scream. Part of him wanted to hit something.

He hurried over to the furthest empty table he could find. One of the smaller ones located in the corner of the room. At least that way, he'd be able to see everyone and not have people literally talking behind his back.

He stared down at his plate of chicken and salad and felt his stomach give a little roll. He wasn't hungry. Not only was he not hungry but he felt a little nauseous, probably from the meds they'd given him earlier. And from nerves. How was he meant to sit here and chow down when everyone was watching him?!

"Well, that was rude!" said Jamilla, as she pulled out a chair and sat down.

"I didn't say you could sit there" he said, scowling over at her.

"I didn't ask" she said, picking at her chicken with her fingers and popping a small piece in her mouth.

"And I'm the rude one?!" he snorted, a look of indignation on his face.

"This is a communal table" she said, picking up her plastic glass of water and taking a big slurp. He noticed that her eyes flitted around the place, never really resting on anything. She seemed a bit agitated herself. "So, if you have a problem with me sitting here" she added testily, "You can be the one to move!"

He gave an angry huff and went to pick up his plate. Maybe he'd take it back to his room?

"Oh, for fuck sake!" she said, with an exasperated and angry little laugh, "Are you that much of an asshole that you can't even let someone be nice to you?! Did you ever think that maybe I need a friend too?!"

He stared at her for a moment before slumping back in the chair. He picked up his plastic fork and began pushing his food lethargically around the plate. "Stop calling me an asshole" he muttered.

"Stop acting like one" she replied, through the food in her mouth.

He shook his head. Jamilla was surprising. She seemed so meek and quiet most of the time, timid like a little mouse, and yet here she was swearing like a sailor and giving him a telling off. He wondered what she might have been like if this terrible thing hadn't happened to her. Which was the real her? Was she timid and shy because she'd been kidnapped and raped, or was the bolshie potty-mouthed side of her personality a reaction to her abuse? Who was the real Jamilla? It was like she had split personality sometimes.

"You don't even look like someone who should know that word" he said, "It's kind of shocking to hear you say it."

"Because I'm a girl?" she asked, looking at him suspiciously, "Or because I'm Indian?"

He spluttered at that and flushed bright red. "No… I didn't…" he began to explain, but she cut him off.

"My mother hates it when I swear" she chuckled sadly, "But fuck her… She hasn't got a clue what I've been through so she can stop telling me what good little Indian girls do and don't do… That ship sailed a long long time ago… and it's not like I'm ever getting married…" She put on a stronger Indian accent to imitate her mother. "What are we going to do with you?!" she said, waggling her finger and doing her best disapproving face, "When you talk like a man and you don't take care of yourself? Look at your hair! Look at what you've done to your beautiful arms! What will people think?!"

He couldn't help smirking a little. He liked when she imitated her mother. She seemed to do that a lot in their group sessions. He particularly liked the way she 'bobbled' her head from side to side to mean 'yes' when she was playing the part of one her more traditional relatives.

"Why can't you be like your sister?" she continued, in her mother's voice, "She doesn't give us trouble like you! Neela is a good girl."

He could see the pain in her face and hear the anger in her voice. She was masking it with humour but it was clear that her mother's words were hurtful. "I'm sure she doesn't mean it" he put in.

Jamilla shook her head, her face flushing red in anger. "My sister wasn't 'ruined' at the age of thirteen…" she spat, returning to her own accent, "She's little miss perfect… The shining light in my parent's lives… I'm just a disappointment."

"I'm sure that's not true" he said quietly, "…and you weren't 'ruined'…"

She looked up at him, anger shining in her eyes. "It's why we left India…" she said, "They're ashamed of me." She gave an angry sort of sniff and wiped at her nose. "Couldn't face their stuck-up friends with a daughter like me. Not after what happened. Not with all my 'problems'!"

"You're not ruined" he repeated, giving her a meaningful look, "You know that, right?"

A voice in the back of his head hissed _'hypocrite'_ at him and he inwardly cringed at how often he said and thought stuff like this himself.

She gave a sad little smirk. "Aren't we?" she asked, with a shrug, "What are we doing here then?"

He grimaced a little at that. He knew she'd seemed a little down before but he hadn't quite realised how much. This was a very different girl from the one who'd come into his room only a few hours ago. He felt a little bad now for being so unfriendly. What had happened?!

"Did your family come to visit?" he asked, "Did you see them today?"

She shook her head and stared down at the food on her plate. "They called me…" she said, tears filling her eyes, "There's been a change of plans… They said they don't want me to come home to live with them… They've found another 'place' for me, closer to where my aunt lives. They think I need more time to get my head straight."

"Oh?" he said, feeling a little lost for words.

"So, it looks like that's where I'm going when I leave here" she said, picking up a small piece of chicken and staring at it.

"A place like this?" he asked, "I thought you were being discharged?"

"No, I am…" she answered forlornly, "It's some kind of half-way house or something… They make sure you're eating and looking after yourself… You have to tell them where you're going and when you're gonna be back. Kind of like being tagged… My parents are worried I'll 'try again' and… I guess they're not ready to deal with that… with me. They don't want me around my little sister."

"That's ridiculous!" he exclaimed.

"She was the one that found me" she said, her face filling with guilt.

"Found you?" he asked.

She glanced up at him, eyes full of shame, and threw him a look. "Found me" she repeated, "That night I…"

"Oh!" he said, picking up on what she meant and grimacing a little. A bloody scene flashed through his mind, as he imagined the girl in front of him covered in her own blood with her wrists slit. He couldn't imagine how much it would have affected her sister to find her like that. "How old is she?" he asked.

"Ten" she answered, with a guilty frown, "She was born over here."

"That's a big gap" he noted, "She's your only sibling?"

She gave a wry little smile. "Ever heard of a sticking plaster baby?"

He nodded in understanding. Her parents had had the new baby in the hopes of repairing their struggling marriage. Jamilla's kidnapping had probably caused a lot of tension.

"I dunno… Maybe they're right?" she sighed, "Maybe I'm not ready…" She rubbed at her neck in that anxious way again. "I'm sure it'll be fine" she muttered, "I don't really have a choice."

"But you're an adult" he said, "I mean, you don't have to do anything you don't want to… Not after you're released from here? Why don't you just get your own place?"

"I don't have any money" she said, breathing angrily through her nose. He'd obviously hit a raw nerve. "So, I guess, I'll just have to go where they put me!".

"I'm sorry" he sighed, as he wondered if his family would want _him_ to come back when he got out of here. _If_ he got out of here.

They sat in silence for a moment. Jamilla just sat stabbing at the pasta on her plate. She was clearly angry and doing a very poor job of getting it under control. "You should talk to your family" she said, narrowing her eyes as though she'd read his mind, "At least they want to see _you_ … You're lucky, y'know?"

"Lucky?!" he exclaimed with a curl of his lip. Hadn't she read anything about his life?! Lucky did not describe him.

"Yeah" she growled at him, "Lucky! You have no idea how lucky you are!"

He was aghast. Where did she think she got off talking to him like that?!

"You don't know anything about me!" he snapped back at her, "You don't know…"

"Oh, I know more than you think!" she hissed, jumping up and glaring angrily at him, "You walk around here like you're the only person who's ever had bad shit happen to them! You sit there judging everyone else because things were worse for you as a kid, but you know what?! Right now, you're better off than most of the people in here. You don't even get that a lot of us are alone in the world. Going through this crap on our own! Some of us have _NO-ONE_! No-one there to hold our hands when we have a nightmare, no-one to listen to our sob stories… Some of us have parents who blame us for what happened to us! Who think we're dirty and tainted! …From what I heard, you have people kicking down the door, just desperate to see _you_. Your wife, your brother, your parents… lots of friends…"

He just sat there in shock. He didn't know what to say. This was a side to Jamilla he'd never seen before.

"So, stop being such a dick!" she shouted at him, "…and let them come see you before they decide you're not worth the bother!"

With that, she lifted her plate and stomped across the room leaving some very shocked looking faces in her wake.

* * *

 **ii.**

"Um… Can I talk to you for a minute?" asked Kyle, dithering, as the group dispersed and Rachel began to push the chairs back into their rightful position. It had been an emotional group session tonight, with some harrowing stories, so most of the patients had scattered as soon as they were able to leave. Rachel was on her own.

"Now?!" she asked, with a look of surprise.

She was a little stunned to find Kyle 'Summers' reaching out to her so soon after their little chat, especially since he'd sat in sullen silence throughout the group session and refused to participate in any way. In fact, he'd seemed so quiet and withdrawn, she'd wondered if she'd ever get him to talk! This was definitely a step in the right direction!

"Sure…" she said, after a moment's hesitation, "Out here…. Or in my office?"

"Uhhh… I don't mind" he said, looking unsure of himself and rubbing his arm through his hoodie sleeve. He seemed restless, and kept glancing at the other patients in an anxious way, as though he thought they were talking about him. "Maybe… maybe your office would be better?" he suggested.

"Okay" she answered, with what she hoped was a bright smile, "Give me a few minutes to sort a few things and we can meet at my office in say… ten minutes?"

She wouldn't normally do this, but something told her that if she missed this opportunity to speak to him this time, she would never get another one. In any case, she had to let security know that she would be meeting a patient on her own at an unscheduled session and to make sure there was someone available should she press the panic button under her desk. She didn't want to take any risks.

Ten minutes later, Rachel found herself sitting in her office with an exceedingly nervous looking Kyle Summers in front of her. He was perched on the edge of his chair, eyes fixed on the floor, one leg jittering up and down, and one hand scratching insistently at his other arm through the fabric of his hoodie. He clearly couldn't sit still, and whatever was weighing on his mind had his nervous system in overdrive. This young man was a ball of stress.

"So… what did you want to talk about?" she asked, keeping her voice soft and soothing and trying to put him at ease.

He glanced up at her for a moment and then back down at his feet. He didn't seem too sure about being here at all. She could see his chest rising and falling far too fast like he was on the brink of a panic attack.

"Kyle" she said, giving him a little half-smile, "Can you just take a deep breath for me? Like this…" She demonstrated breathing in slowly through her nose and then letting it out through her mouth, her hand on her diaphragm to show the expansion of her lungs. "Just slow… and steady…"

He tried his best to follow her, heaving a breath in through his nose, and letting it out as slowly as he could. He still looked panicky but after a few deeper breaths he seemed to calm a little.

"Better?" she asked, with an encouraging smile.

He nodded shakily and did it again, closing his eyes to concentrate better.

"Good, Kyle" she encouraged, "You're doing really well…"

After a moment, he opened his eyes, flushing red, and looking more than a little embarrassed. "Sorry" he muttered.

"That's okay" she assured him. They sat for a few moments more, while he fidgeted nervously in his chair. She was clearly waiting for him to speak. When nothing seemed to be forthcoming, she decided to break the silence. "Is there something in particular that's bothering you, Kyle?"

He gave a little snort at that. Where was he supposed to start?!

She might as well have read his mind. "Something brought you here this evening" she said, trying to coax him out of his shyness, "Something you wanted to talk to me about?"

He stared at the floor and gave a sort of shrug. "I just…" he began, clearing his throat out of nerves, "I just…" He made to get up with a mumbled, "Maybe… maybe this wasn't such a good idea?"

"No, Kyle, come on… It's okay" she soothed, "Just take your time… There's no rush…"

"It's just… I uh…" he began again slowly, as he sank back onto the chair. "I guess I've been thinking about my birth family…" he said, looking almost guilty for speaking to her. He obviously wasn't used to sharing his thoughts and feelings. "They uh… they keep trying to come see me… but I don't want to see them!"

"Are you sure about that?" she asked, "That you definitely don't want them visiting?"

He nodded vigorously. The last thing he wanted was for his family to meet him for the first time when he was in a mental hospital! What on earth would they think of him?! If he was ever going to meet them, it wasn't going to be in a place like this! He was embarrassed enough as it was!

"Okay" she sighed, "But… you've at least been thinking about them?"

He nodded and chewed his lip a little, like he was trying to decide whether to say something or not. A long silence ensued.

"It's… It's something Jamilla said…" he finally mumbled, "I can't… I don't know… I can't stop thinking about it…"

 _Ah, so that was it!_ She'd noticed the two of them behaving a little strangely in group earlier, giving each other a wide berth and obviously avoiding eye contact. It didn't take a genius to guess that they'd had a falling out. That Jamilla girl must have said something very hurtful to have Kyle this agitated!

"She upset you?" she asked, with a sympathetic little curve of the lips, "Kyle… You know people sometimes say things they don't mean…"

"No… it's nothing like that" he said, flushing a little red and fixing his eyes on the floor, "It's just…" He took the crumpled photo of his family out of his pocket and slid it across the desk to her. "I just… I don't want them to be ashamed of me…" he said, his voice small and uncertain, "My birth family."

"Ashamed?" she repeated, her voice tinged with sadness as she took in the happy family snap in front of her, a man nearly identical to Kyle front and centre, "Why would they be ashamed of you?"

"Jamilla says her family are ashamed of her" he answered, "They think she's tainted because of what happened to her. She even used the word 'ruined'... I mean… I know her family have more traditional views, but my birth family's Italian… As in, actually from Italy… So, I was thinking maybe they'll think that way too? …I mean… what if they think I'm 'damaged'? Or… or dirty?"

"And, are you?" she asked, leaning back in her chair, "Is that the way that you see yourself? 'Damaged and dirty' as you put it? Do you think they'd be right to think that?"

He looked up at her, a little shocked at the question. Most people just told him that he wasn't any of those things. That he wasn't damaged, that he wasn't dirty… They never asked him how he felt about those labels or if he really believed them to be true.

"Yes" he said, quietly.

"Why?" she asked.

He worried his lip between his teeth and gave a sad shrug. "Because…", he said so quietly it was almost a whisper, "…because I let them do those things to me".

"You _let_ them?" she repeated.

He nodded, staring miserably at his feet. "I let them do those things to me… I uh… I _participated_."

"You're telling me that you consented?" she asked, "That you gave your consent at the age of three? At the age of ten?"

"No, of course not" he answered angrily. There was so much anguish in his face, his mouth screwed into a pained grimace, like the words were bitter on his tongue. "But I did what they told me to do…" he spat out, "I didn't fight them… I just… I took it… all of it!"

"And you think that makes you weak in some way?" she asked, "Like you didn't fight hard enough?"

He nodded, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. He _did_ think that.

"Kyle" she sighed, "What that makes you, is a survivor… You survived seven years in a house full of horrors. You did what you _had_ to do to survive… That makes you incredibly strong."

He scoffed at that, but she shook her head at him in a way that said ' _You need to listen_.'

"Your parents will see what I see" she continued, "A man who made a good life for himself, despite all the terrible things that happened to him… Someone with the strength to get up, dust himself off, and make something of himself! A husband, a father, a good friend… a good son… Any parent would be incredibly proud! Not ashamed! _Never_ ashamed! You are a SURVIVOR, Kyle! You need to start seeing yourself that way."

He wiped away another tear that had somehow escaped, despite his best efforts, and begun rolling down his cheek. His hands were shaking.

"And I really can't see how you _'let'_ anyone do _anything_ …" she continued, "How could a child that young… a three year old child… be expected to stop something like that from happening? You think you should have somehow fought off grown men, fought back, escaped?! What?! What is it you think you didn't do that means you 'allowed' it to happen?"

"I don't know" he admitted, "I just… I feel like… like I could have done something…"

"You couldn't" she assured him.

He shook his head, refusing to meet her gaze. "You don't understand" he said, "You don't know what it feels…"

"I was raped" she said, quietly interrupting him.

He looked up at her in shock. "You… you were…"

"When I was a lot younger…" she continued, "Not a child like you, but… it had an impact on my early adult life. It still has an impact, if I'm completely honest… It's probably why I do what I do… I'm not telling you this because it makes us 'even' or anything like that. What you went through is beyond anything I can even begin to comprehend… but… I can understand what it feels like to have no control over your own body… To have someone take that from you by force… And I know that I've struggled for a long time with the thought that I could have stopped it… That maybe if I'd done this… or maybe if I'd done that…"

He was still staring at her with a look of surprise on his face. He didn't know what to say.

"But I want you to think about something for me for a moment" she continued, "I want you to picture a three year old boy… A little boy around that age… Maybe a son… a nephew… the child of a friend?"

"My nephew" he muttered with a nod.

"Okay" she smiled softly, "Then I want you to close your eyes and I want you to picture that little boy."

He furrowed his brow at her. He clearly didn't like where this was going.

"Come on, trust me" she said, closing her own eyes.

He gave a heavy sigh and reluctantly gave in.

"What's his name?" she asked.

"Harley" he answered.

"Okay, I want you to picture Harley" she said again, "And I want you to imagine that someone is getting ready to hurt him, just like they used to hurt you…"

She could hear his breathing pick up at the mere thought of someone hurting his nephew. He obviously didn't want to think about something so horrible.

"He's being dragged, no, carried towards a bedroom…" she said, "He's crying… He's saying ' _no, stop!'_. He doesn't want to go in that room…"

"Can we stop this, please?!" he almost whimpered. The thought that he might have a panic attack crossed her mind. She hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"What would you say to him?" she persevered, "To that little boy? Would you tell him he has to fight harder? That this will all be his fault if he doesn't get away? That it's his responsibility to make the bad men stop?"

"No!" he gasped, opening his eyes and glaring at her, "This is sick! I don't want to think about Harley that way!"

"And if it did happen…?" she asked, refusing to let him leave the topic, "…and Harley came to you and told you what they did… Would you think he was broken and damaged? …Would you think _he_ was dirty because of what was done to _him_?"

"Of course not!" he answered angrily, "He's only a little boy!"

"So were you" she said softly, "Kyle, you were just a little boy. You were only three years old, and you were scared and hurt, and there were bad people doing very bad things to you…"

He seemed to close in on himself at that, unconsciously hugging his arms around himself and drawing his legs in. _'Making the target smaller'_ she thought to herself as she watched him, _'How many times did you have to do that? Curl up in a ball to protect yourself, you poor poor boy?'_.

"And they told you things that weren't true" she said, "They made you feel like you were worthless… and dirty… but you _aren't_ … and you never were… and deep down, you know that."

He pulled his feet onto the chair so he could hug his arms around his knees. She saw him clamp his eyes shut like an inner war was waging. She imagined echoes of voices bouncing around his head, making him shake, and sending ice cold shivers down his spine. How many times had Simon and Jessica Hames told him he was filthy, or disgusting, or called him demeaning over-sexualised names? That kind of stuff seeps into your psyche and becomes a part of you. He obviously didn't know how to stop believing what he'd been told.

"I think you need to forgive yourself" she said, hoping that her words were beginning to sink in, "Nothing that happened to you was your fault… and there was nothing… NOTHING that you could have done to stop it…"

She gave a heavy sigh as she watched him frown at the floor and shake his head. He clearly thought otherwise.

"Why are you the only one that doesn't deserve sympathy?" she asked him, "Why should Harley be forgiven… but not you?"

He looked up at her. He obviously didn't have an answer to that question. On a rational level, he seemed to know that she was right. Of course, he understood that, he wasn't stupid. But emotions are rarely rational, and waves of self-loathing seemed to crash over him any time she mentioned what had happened to him. It would be naïve to think that they could rewrite a lifetime of self-blame in one evening. What he needed was a whole new way of thinking, but that would require a complete rewiring of his mental processes and the way that they worked! The way he'd been taught to think at a very young age. It was going to take a lot of work.

"Will I ever stop feeling this way?" he asked instead of answering her question, his eyes full of despair.

She nodded slowly, in a thoughtful sort of way. "I believe you can start to feel better about yourself… in time…" she said, choosing her words carefully, "I don't think there's any kind of quick fix… and there's definitely no magic pill I can give you to make it all go away."

He smiled a little sadly at that. She kind of wished that there was.

"You need to start dealing with things" she said, trying not to sound like she was scolding him, "Talking is the most important thing, especially with your friends and family… I want you to start seeing them…"

He opened his mouth to protest.

"It _will_ help" she said, sternly cutting him off, "You might not think so, but it will! You're going to have to trust me on this…"

She couldn't help smiling a little when he lowered his gaze and nodded at the floor. She and the hospital's 'most difficult' patient seemed to have found common ground. Or they'd made a little progress anyway, and for that she was grateful.

"So, what do you say?" she asked, with an encouraging smile, "How about we start by giving this friend of yours a call… Martin, was it? It might be easier, as a first step… Why don't we get him to come in and see you?"


	37. Chapter 37

**Author's note: Hey everyone! Sorry for the slight delay on this one. I had hoped to have this finished over the weekend but the sunshine was calling and I spent a good deal of the weekend eating and drinking. The good news is I have a new chapter ready now!**

 **Thanks again so much to my lovely reviewers Zoe-eoZ, FrankElza, Pembie, Braxtonboyzz123, and Braxton54. You're fabulous, all of you! And thanks to aphass for following. I really hope you all enjoy this next chapter.**

 **I keep saying I'm not sure about my chapters. I'm really not. If I'm honest, I find it very hard to tell if they're any good at all, and I read them over and over, and obsess about every line and piece of dialogue. I'm not 100% happy with this one, but I'll let you lovely folk tell me what you think… Don't be afraid to be critical.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 37**

 **i.**

Kat rolled over in her bed with a heavy groan, clicking her alarm clock off, and throwing the cover off one side of her body. She was hot and sweaty, and her heart was thumping in a rather disconcerting way. More like a pitter patter inside her ribcage. Palpitations really. Her mouth felt dull and heavy too, like she'd coated it with a layer of carpet at some stage during the night. ' _Not again!_ ' she thought to herself, _'Why do you keep doing this?!'_

She hadn't taken the loss of her job… no, her calling… very well. Being a cop was all she'd ever wanted to do. All she'd ever dreamed of. Now she was working as a fitness trainer down at the Surfclub, which wasn't the worst job in the world, but it wasn't exactly fulfilling. She knew that drowning her sorrows in the bottom of a vodka bottle wasn't going to do any good but she didn't seem to have any better ideas.

She cracked one eye open and took in the overturned almost empty bottle of vodka on the bedside table, and startled a little when she saw that it was partially covered by a pair of men's boxer shorts.

"Shit!" she said out loud, freezing stock still when she felt the bed shift behind her. She'd obviously brought someone home from the bar last night… ' _Oh God!_ ', she thought, she couldn't even remember who he was! How many times had she done this now?!

' _Why the hell did you have to drink so much?!'_ she mentally scolded herself, as she tried to run the events of the evening over in her head. She vaguely remembered being in Angelo's and drinking one too many tequilas, and maybe a few whiskeys too? She was fairly sure that Matt had asked her to leave at some point, possibly after she'd started yelling insults at him? Had she started dancing on the table?! Had she got a rugby team to sing _'I Will Survive'_ with her?! Had she stolen a bottle of vodka from behind the bar?!

She groaned with embarrassment. How could things have come to this?! She used to be a cop for Christ's sake?! And now what was she?! The town drunk?! And she'd even brought a random man home with her… again!

"Mmm" mumbled a male voice behind her, and an arm suddenly flopped across her side. She couldn't help flinching and pulling away in disgust when she felt wet lips flutter across her shoulder. The image of a dark-haired musclebound rugby player flitted across her mind. Some guy called Hamish or Jock, or some other stupid Scottish name. He'd been so full of himself, while at the same time hardly having two brain cells to rub together. She seemed to remember flirting with him. _'Please don't let it be him!'_ she pleaded with herself, _'Oh God, anybody but him!'_

She glanced behind her and saw the blonde surfer sprawled out beside her. "Ash?!" she gasped.

Now _that_ was something she hadn't been expecting! Lots of questions raced through her mind: When had they run into each other?! What had happened to the rugby guys she'd been with?! Why couldn't she remember?! How drunk had she even been?!

"Mornin'" he mumbled, nuzzling his face into her shoulder with his eyes closed, "Time is it?"

"It's 7am" she said, picking his arm up by the wrist and moving it away from her as though it was a thing diseased, "And I need to get to work… so you know…"

"S'early" he slurred, as he buried his face under the pillows, "You go… I'll stay here."

"No, Ash, come on! You have to go!" she pleaded, "I need to get changed…"

She just needed some time to herself to get her head around things. How had she let this happen again?! How had Martin Ashford ended up in her bed for a second time?!

"Please, Ash?!" she whined, when he showed no signs of moving.

"Won't look" he muttered sleepily, "Promise…" He was clearly still very drunk and only half conscious.

"Ash?!" she begged, getting up on her knees while still being careful to keep the sheets pulled around her. While he'd obviously seen _everything_ on two separate occasions now, she still didn't feel comfortable being naked in front of him. At least not sober. She lifted his deadweight of an arm and began yanking on it rather insistently. "Come on, I need you to wake up and let me get dressed for work!" she begged.

"I'm up" he said, still not having moved an inch, "I'm up! I'm going… in a few minutes." He clearly had no intentions of going anywhere.

"No, you're not!" she growled angrily, "I need my room back, and I really really need you to be gone…"

He lay still for a moment longer before suddenly rolling over and staggering out of the bed onto unsteady feet. "Woah!" he gasped, grabbing onto the side of the bed for a moment to steady himself, "Feel dizzy... give me a sec."

"You okay?" she asked, as she saw him suddenly looking quite pale. The last thing she needed was a pile of vomit on her bedroom floor.

He stood a moment longer, before straightening up and giving a tense little nod. "How much did we drink?" he asked, as he stooped carefully to pick up his t-shirt. He grimaced when he saw an empty wine bottle on the floor, kicked half under the bed. He felt a small flutter of guilt at the thought of being so reckless with the one and only kidney he had left.

"I dunno, I don't remember…" she said, leaning over and hooking his boxers off the bedside table. The empty vodka bottle fell to the floor with an ominous thud. "Here!" she said, as she balled them up and threw them at him. She couldn't help noting his lack of embarrassment at being naked this time round.

"Thanks" he said, as he caught them and then stepped into them a little unsteadily. He managed to get the jeans back on, but chose to throw the t-shirt over his shoulder. When he moved towards the door, as though in a daze, Kat called out to him.

"Don't!" she said, climbing to her feet and yanking the window open, "Go out the window. I don't want your sister knowing we slept together."

The first time had complicated things enough from a flatmate point of view. She didn't think she could cope with Billie making more jokes about the two of them getting it on, or lecturing her about toying with her brother's affections.

"I don't want anyone to know!" she added.

He looked a little hurt by that, but he gave a nod of agreement and headed towards the window.

I don't see why that would be such a bad thing" he said, joining her and placing his hand lightly on her waist, "I mean… You came looking for me. There's a reason this keeps happening?"

"I was drunk" she asserted, pushing his hand away and motioning with her head for him to climb out. She was cringing a little. A memory of hammering on his bedroom door in the early hours of the morning flashed through her mind. Had she gone looking for him when she got home drunk?! Had she dragged him back to her bedroom and plied him with alcohol?!

"I think we both know there's more to this than just a drunken hook-up" he said, "I… I like you, Kat… and I think you like me…"

"Can you just go?" she asked, although her expression had softened a little, "I just… I need some time to think…"

Did she really want to start a relationship with someone like Ash? A convicted criminal? And a man with whom sex seemed to be incredibly unmemorable?

He gazed at her for a moment more, an almost puppy-like yearning on his face, before giving a little nod and turning to climb out. Just as he swung one leg over the ledge, his phone began to ring, and he frowned as the score to Lord of The Rings began to ring quite loudly.

Kat raised one eyebrow. She never would have had Ash down as a Lord of the Rings fan. Her friend back in police training had been completely obsessed by it, and had bored her to tears by making her watch it over and over, but Ash just didn't seem the type. She couldn't help thinking he looked a little shifty too as he fumbled for his phone in his pocket. What was he up to?

"I uh… I've gotta take this" he said, as he hopped out the window as quick as he could.

She narrowed her eyes when she saw him give her a guilty little glance, putting as much distance between them as he could before answering.

"Yeah, mate, good news…" she managed to hear, "The hospital called last night. They said he's agreed to see me… Visiting's just after lunch..."

 **ii.**

"Okay, so… If you'll just follow me this way, Mr Ashford" said the portly older nurse, as she led him down the corridor, "We've given you a private visiting room"

He'd signed in a few minutes ago, presenting his driver's licence as ID and allowed them to take a look at the contents of the gift bag he'd brought with him. A selection of all the normal things that people brought for patients; a few magazines, a couple of boxes of chocolates and packets of lollies, but she'd had to confiscate the iPod. Patients weren't allowed electronic devices of any kind, and besides there was no way to know that any podcasts weren't of a potentially upsetting nature. To his credit, the young man hadn't argued, and had simply agreed to pick it up on his way out.

"Dr Armstrong thought Kyle would find this easier…" she continued, glancing back at the visitor to make sure that he wasn't lagging behind, "He's been a bit…"

"Yeah, I heard" he answered, with a little grimace, "Is that other doctor alright?"

"Dr Yang?" she said, stopping in her tracks and turning to look at him properly.

She hadn't been told what his relationship was to the patient and she wasn't sure how he knew about the assault, but his concern seemed genuine. That was nice… Even if she couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at the corner of her lips when she finally did answer. "He'll be fine" she said, before turning and continuing down the hallway. What she didn't say was _'Dr Yang is a pain in everyone's butt around here, and no-one is all that upset that he finally got his ass handed to him. Maybe someone will finally figure out he's an alcoholic and a sexist pig, and we'll get to keep this nice Dr Armstrong instead?'_

"Just a hazard of the job" she added instead.

"This kind of thing happen a lot then?" he asked, with a look of concern.

"No, no!" she answered quickly, "Not very often… but unfortunately they do happen… Patients just sort of lash out…" She stopped outside what looked like the door to an office. "Here we are!" she said brightly, "I'm sure he'll be pleased to see you…" With that, she turned the door handle and pushed the door open. "Kyle?" she called out, to the man standing with his back to them by the window, "Your friend Martin's here!"

 **iii.**

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" asked Jenny, with a nervous and tight little smile, "You… you don't think Kyle will be upset with us?"

"I don't know" admitted David, "I'm worried too… but I just… I just want to…"

"I do too" she said, giving his hand a squeeze, "I don't think I could refuse even if I wanted to… I need to talk to them… I _need_ to!" She gave a heavy sigh and ran her hand through her red curly hair. "I'm just worried… What if we lose Kyle because of this…? What if he thinks we've betrayed him?"

"He won't… It'll be okay" he assured her, although the look on his face told a different story. He was just as worried as her. He leaned over and gave her a soft little kiss. "He'll understand…"

She shook her head, and then looked over nervously towards the door. They were late. What if they weren't coming? Detective Drazic hadn't called to cancel so there was no reason to think that they'd pulled out… but what if they'd gotten cold feet? Would she be relieved or disappointed? She couldn't quite decide.

"G'day, folks" said Irene, as she appeared beside their table, "What can I get for you lovely people today?"

"Uh… we're uh… waiting for…" David began to say.

"Oh God!" gasped Jenny, as she saw a man and a woman walk through the door, "They're here, sweetie! That's them!"

David turned to look at the door and saw an Italian couple standing in the doorway. They looked anxious, and scared, and a lot older than the photos he'd seen. The woman had a lot more grey in her hair, and a drawn look to her face that hinted at the heartache she'd suffered. Her eyes were full of sadness. The man had the kind of reddening in his complexion that said a heart attack wasn't far off. This wasn't the happy shiny couple they'd all seen in those photos. He wondered how much manipulation it had taken for the photographer to make them look that good.

Suddenly the man and he made eye contact and he gave him a little nod of recognition.

"I'll uh… I'll come back…" said Irene, sensing the tension and wanting to give them some space. She went quickly to the counter and busied herself wiping the countertop.

"Hi" said David, standing up when he realised that the Innocenti's weren't moving. They seemed frozen to the spot. He took a few steps towards them and held his hand out. "We're uh… I'm David Summers" he said.

"Marco Innocenti" said the other man, taking his hand and giving a nervous and wan smile, before nodding to the woman beside him, "And uh… this is… this is Anna." He had quite a strong accent but there was a hint of Australian creeping in. It was obvious that he'd been living here for a very long time.

David shook hands with Anna and gave her a sympathetic little half-smile. He could see that she'd been crying not too long ago. Her eyes were still a little puffy. She didn't say anything, she was staring past him.

"It… It's really nice… really good to meet you" stammered David. He glanced over to where Jenny was still standing. She was white as a sheet, her eyes locked on Anna.

"Um… why don't we get some coffees?" suggested David.

"Yeah" nodded Marco, "That sounds good."

They made their way over to the table and David stepped beside his wife. "This is Jenny" he said, putting his arm around her waist for support.

"Marco" said the other man, holding his hand out to her and frowning when she ignored it. Her attention was elsewhere. The two women hadn't taken their eyes off each other since they'd stepped through the door. "Are you okay?" he asked, with a doubtful glance at David.

"You're… you're Jenny?" stammered Anna, as she stepped up to stand in front of the red-haired woman, "You're the one who take care of my boy?" Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke, the words escaping despite her throat seeming to almost close on her. "You're… Kyle's mother?" she choked out, dissolving into tears.

Jenny let out a little gasp and enveloped Anna in her arms. "I'm so sorry!" she cried, holding the other woman who was now shaking against her, "I'm so so sorry… I can't imagine what it must have been like for you. I can't! I'm so sorry!"

Marco stood there looking a little lost. David didn't seem to know what to do either… And Irene stopped in her tracks, tucking her order pad back in her apron, and went back to the coffee counter grumbling. That table definitely didn't look ready to order!

"Thank you so much!" whispered Anna, as she hugged Jenny tight. Her accent was much stronger than her husband's but her English was obviously very good. "Thank you for saving him… for loving him… They take him from us… They take him and they… they hurt him… But you, you w-were good to him. You loved him… Loved him, when we couldn't." Her whole body seemed to be shaking violently.

"I'm so sorry" repeated Jenny, now stroking the other woman's hair, "I wish we'd known… Known you were out there…"

"What did they do to him?!" wailed Anna, "What did those animals do to my baby?!" She'd pulled back and looked at Jenny with anguish-filled eyes.

"Sta tranquilla" said Marco, reaching out and putting a hand on Anna's shoulder, "Stai tranquilla, amore, stai tranquilla…" He pulled gently on her shoulder to make her step away from the other woman. "Let's take a coffee… and… and talk…" he coaxed.

Reluctantly, she let go of Jenny and allowed herself to be guided into a seat at the table but she never let go of Jenny's hand. Both women were shaking and crying and Anna was staring at Jenny's hand in her own.

Marco and David slid into the seats beside their wives, and David nodded to Irene to come over and take an order.

"We'll have two flat whites" said David, as soon as Irene walked over, "And uh… What would you like?"

Marco glanced at Anna and then back at Irene. "Two espresso" he said, giving her a tense little smile, "Thank you".

"No worries, love" said Irene, flashing them a bright smile before walking back over to Chris at the counter. He'd come back from his break. "Two espressos and two flat whites" she relayed to him. They both glanced over at the table when they heard a woman sobbing.

"Anna" soothed Marco, as he put his arm around her, "Dai, smettila! …Tesoro, ti devi calmare!"

She rested her head on his shoulder and took a few shuddery breaths. "I'm sorry" she said, wiping at her eyes and looking at Jenny and David a little shamefacedly, "It's just… It's…"

"It's too much" said Jenny, "We can understand that. You have nothing to be sorry for…"

Irene approached the table a little anxiously and set the tray down on the table. They muttered thank you's as their coffees were set in front of them. A silence descended on the table as they put sugar in their coffees and then began shakily sipping at them. Anna was still trying to get her breathing under control. David put his hand on Jenny's knee as a show of support.

"How was he?" asked Anna, with a pained expression on her face, "Will you tell us? How was he when he came to you?" She reached out and took hold of Jenny's hand again. "I need to know how he was?"

Jenny glanced at David and furrowed her brow. How could she begin to explain? How could she tell this woman who was already suffering so much about the damaged shell of a boy that had come to live with them all those years ago? About his skinny little body and his sad sad eyes? About the nightmares and the bedwetting, and the self-harm? How could she tell her?!

"He's the best thing that ever happened to us" said David, jumping in with an apologetic look to both the father and the mother, "Seeing him recover, seeing him come out of his shell… That's… It's the best thing about my life. Kyle really doesn't understand that… but I'm so grateful I got the chance to be that boy's father… I'm just so sorry those monsters took him from you… That he had to go through all of that… and you."

Marco tried to smile but it didn't reach his eyes.

"He's beautiful" said Jenny, with a little head tilt, "He's got such a good heart… even… even after everything that happened…" She sighed and shook her head. "But he's angry …and… and he's so insecure about himself… He's a beautiful, kind young man, but he …I just wish he could see that about himself. Those _people_ just hurt him so badly…" She grimaced and blinked as she tried to hold back her tears. "Some things can't be fixed…"

At that Anna gave a little whimper.

"But he's doing really well" she said, seeking to reassure the other woman, "Despite it all… He's a good man. A really _good_ man! And he's such a good father!" She looked at David then in a proud sort of way. "He loves his little boy so much… and he and Tamara, that's his wife… They're so good with Noah…"

"Noah?!" gasped Anna, "That's his little boy?! They call him Noah?!"

David smiled widely and nodded. "Something must have stuck" he said, "He didn't forget everything."

"He doesn't remember us" said Marco, with a sad little shake of the head, "He doesn't remember us at all, does he?"

David gave a sympathetic little grimace. "I… I don't think he does" he admitted, "He didn't even remember his own name so…"

"He was too young" nodded Marco, his eyes fixed on the table, "He had only three years when he as taken… Children don't remember when they're so little."

"Nothing?! Really nothing?!" sniffled Anna, "Not even his brother? Not even Nico?"

"Nico?!" exclaimed David, "His brother's called Nico?!"

Anna gave Marco a confused glance. "Yes… Nicola…" she answered, "We call him Nico… Why?"

David nodded towards Jenny's bag for her to get something out. She smiled a bright smile and began to rummage inside.

"We brought some photos" she said, with a nervous little giggle, "We thought you might want to see them." She pulled a bundle of photos out and began to flick through them quickly. "Here!" she said, pulling one out from the stack, "This is it!" She handed the photo across the table to the other couple.

Anna covered her mouth when she saw the photo and her eyes immediately flooded with tears. "Look, Marco!" she exclaimed, as she gazed down at the little boy in the photo. He had shaggy brown hair and big brown eyes, and a sad empty expression. He wasn't smiling but his skinny little arms were hugged around a large plush toy. "He looks same as Nico!" she said, grabbing hold of Marco's hand, "He's so handsome!"

Marco smiled down lovingly at the photo on the table and for the first time his eyes filled up with tears too. "Mio figlio!" he whispered in awe, "E' vivo!"

David pointed at the toy in the photo and smiled at Marco. "We gave him that monkey when he first came to live with us" he explained, "And he wouldn't tell us what he'd called him for months and months… I don't think he trusted us, and he needed something for himself. A friend… Anyway, after a while, he must have decided he trusted us enough to tell us…"

Jenny smiled at Anna. "He named him Nico" she said, reaching for the other woman's hand again. "He named him Nico!"

 **iv.**

"Kyle?" called the nurse, making him jump a little, "Your friend Martin's here!" She beamed at him a little condescendingly when he turned to look, but she failed to register the look of shock on his face. His mouth had fallen open and he'd blanched a little white.

"Now" she said, ushering the man beside her into the room, "If you two boys want some tea or coffee or something there's a little coffee station next door. You know where it is, Kyle."

Kyle was just standing there, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, as he stared at the other man. In the end, he managed a nod. _'What the fuck?!'_ he thought to himself, wondering silently if he was losing his mind.

"Okay then" said the nurse, giving the man in the baseball cap a knowing roll of the eyes before leaning in and muttering under her breath, "He might be a little out of sorts. They upped his meds yesterday."

Kyle heard what she said and inwardly rolled his eyes. He was taking the anti-depressants alright but he'd been hiding the sedatives ever since he'd got here. There was a plant in one of the common rooms with seriously toxic compost. No-one was going to turn him into a drooling zombie if he had anything to say about it!

"Uh… okay" answered the other man, as he glanced at Kyle with a look of concern. She closed the door, and he turned and took a tentative step forwards. Kyle just stood there staring like he'd seen a ghost. "Jesus, Kyle… I…" he began, pulling his baseball cap off and scrunching it in his hands nervously, "I just…"

Kyle shook his head slowly, his eyes still wide in shock. His mouth was moving like he wanted to say something but he just didn't seem to have the words. An anger was rising up inside him and he didn't know what to do with it. What was he supposed to say?!

"Mate, can I…?" said the man, approaching him slowly like you would a dangerous wild animal, "I just wanted to…" By his body language, Kyle could tell that he wanted to hug him, but he stopped about a metre in front of him. There was worry written all over his face. "Mate, why aren't you saying anything?" he asked.

Kyle's face suddenly turned from one of shock to anger. His cheeks reddened and his gaze grew hard. His hands clenched at his sides. "What is it you want me to say?" he asked, clenching his jaw as he glared at the man in front of him, "What do you want, Brax?! What?!"

He just felt so hurt. Where had the man been when he'd needed him most?!

"How about _'it's good to see you_?'" replied Brax, with a hint of annoyance in his voice. He rubbed at the back of his neck and ran his fingers through his hair pulling at it. "I'm taking a big risk being here, you know? I had to sneak in here with Ash's ID… I mean… If they catch me…"

"What are you doing here then?!" Kyle growled back at him, "I never asked you to come!"

"No, but… but I wanted to…" he answered, "I needed to see you… You're my brother."

Kyle snorted at that. "Not anymore" he answered bitterly, "I'm not a Braxton anymore. That'll probably make you happy, because let's face it, even before… all of ' _this'_ … I was only your brother when it suited you… when you needed something from me…"

"That's not true" he frowned, "It's not! …Kyle come on?!" He took a step towards him in an attempt to close the gap but Kyle took a step back. "Oi, mate… I don't care if we're not really related…" he said, "It doesn't matter! Even if we're not brothers, you're still my friend!"

"Of course, it fuckin' matters!" sneered Kyle, "It's why… why you didn't even bother to call me…" His voice broke a little and he cursed himself for showing such weakness in front of him.

"You know that's not why!" said Brax, in an equally emotional tone, "Come on, mate, I just…"

Kyle pulled his arms across his chest protectively and shook his head. "I don't want you here!" he said, "I want you to go!" That wasn't true. He knew he was being obstinate and unreasonable but he couldn't help it.

"Come on, mate" pleaded Brax, "I'm here now… I just wanted to see that you're okay. Ash said you're not doing too good?"

Kyle sneered angrily at that. "Ash said so, did he? That was good of him."

"Yeah, he did" admitted Brax, failing to pick up on Kyle's sarcasm, "He's been keeping in touch… You know… letting me know what's been going on…"

"What's been going on?!" repeated Kyle, with an exasperated huff, "And you're only showing up now?! …So, what?! I had to get myself thrown in a loony bin for you to show your ugly face?!" He shook his head in disgust. "Do you even care that we buried your real brother?!"

Brax winced a little at the use of the words 'real brother' and began to protest, but Kyle shoved him hard in the chest to make him back up. "Your little kid brother?!" he shouted, shoving him again, "I mean, where _were_ you Brax?! You didn't even call?! You didn't even call when you found out about me! Or when we found out about… about Kyle…" It still hurt to say that name. "You didn't call!" he shouted, "You didn't fucking call… So, what are you doing here now?!"

"Mate, I couldn't…" protested Brax, "I couldn't…"

"Screw you, Brax!" he snarled, "You could have if you'd wanted to! Christ, you've been talking to Ash all this time?! All this fucking time?!"

"No mate, he just sends me messages" he said, looking a little shamefaced, "I don't actually talk to him… and I didn't know about the… the funeral… Not until a few weeks ago, anyway…"

Kyle shook his head and smiled in a bitter sort of way. "He still had a number to send messages to!" he bit out at him, "Nice to know how much you trust me and Heath!"

"Mate, it wasn't like that!" he sighed, "You know I can't risk the coppers getting suss! This was the only way me and Ric could lay low… the only way we could disappear… make a life for the three of us." He pulled a photo out of his back pocket and held it up to him. Ricky was smiling from ear to ear and hugging a happy looking little boy. "We had to hide out for a few weeks."

Kyle bit his bottom lip at the sight of Ricky and Casey. He wanted to see them so badly. He wanted Ricky to come and put her arms around him and tell him that everything was going to be alright. He wanted her to meet his little boy and for Casey and Noah to be in each other's lives. He missed them.

"Kyle, can we please just sit here and have a talk?" asked Brax.

Kyle stared at him for a long moment, trying to decide whether to let him stay or not. His pride was telling him to kick him out, and inwardly cringing at the idea of talking to Brax about the things that had happened to him. It was bad enough that Heath knew, but he'd always desperately wanted Brax's approval… and he was never going to get that now. It made him sad. ' _That ship sailed a long time ago'_ he thought to himself bitterly, _'How could Brax ever respect someone like me?!'_

Suddenly Rachel's words floated through his mind. ' _You're a survivor' she said, "You have to start seeing yourself that way!"_ It wasn't going to be easy but maybe he needed to try?

"Fine" he said, rolling his eyes and sinking into one of the armchairs. He watched as Brax took the seat opposite, giving him an anxious sort of half-smile, and sitting forward on the edge of the seat. He was obviously nervous. "So…" said Kyle, after a moment or two of uncomfortable silence, "What did Ash tell you?"


	38. Chapter 38

**Author's note: Soooooooo sorry for the ridiculous delay on this chapter. I've had the worst writer's block when it came to this chapter. I've written and rewritten so many bits it's not even funny. I hope you haven't all wandered off and lost interest at this stage. Thanks as always to my lovely reviewers (Zoe-eoZ, FrankElza, Pembie, and Braxton54), I really really appreciate the continued support!**

 **Hope you like this chapter, I'm very nervous about it! (Thought it was better than nothing though!)**

* * *

 **Chapter 38**

Brax gave a heavy sigh and shook his head. Kyle had been giving him the silent treatment for the last while, so they'd been sitting here for well over half an hour in almost total silence, and truth be told, he was quickly losing patience… Okay, so maybe the 'silent treatment' wasn't the right word for it. Kyle was just being very quiet. He was sitting there now with a stack of photos in his hand, just staring down at them, one knee jittering up and down.

Brax had tried getting him to talk by telling him about Ricky and Casey, but even that hadn't worked. He'd told him all about Ricky working freelance, under a false identity of course, and picking up work where she could as a wedding photographer. How Casey was walking and talking now, and keeping them both on their toes with his mischievousness. How he'd managed to get a job working as a farmhand. It wasn't well paid, but it was something. He said they were happy… or as happy as people could be when they were constantly looking over their shoulders. Being on the run wasn't fun, but so far, they were doing okay. They had a roof over their heads and they were making enough money to get by. They didn't have a lot of friends, but that was okay. The few that they did have were good people. They were surviving.

He'd expected Kyle to ask a lot more questions, and to push to know where they were living now, but he just seemed very shut down. As though something had thrown up a barrier between him and the real world. Like he was numb. Was it the medication he was on?

"Kyle?" he said, tapping the younger man on his jittering knee, "You know I'm gonna have to leave soon? You just gonna sit there and ignore me?"

Kyle gave a little snort and looked up at him. "I'm not ignoring you" he said, "I just… I don't have much to say to you…" He gave a little shrug. "I mean… Brax, you walked out of my life nearly 2 years ago, and you made it pretty clear that you don't trust me… so I really don't get what you're doing here. I didn't matter to you when you thought I _was_ your brother, why would I matter now?"

"Kyle!" he groaned, "Can you stop with the bullshit?! You know I care about you."

"Really?!" snapped Kyle, "Because I'm just telling the truth… What was it you said before? I wasn't really Casey's brother, so I didn't have a right to be upset when he died?"

He knew he was being petty, but right now he wanted to hurt the man's feelings. He needed to let some of his anger out.

"You said I didn't have the right to grieve, that I didn't get to be sad when Casey died because I wasn't his blood… Well, I'm not your blood now either, so why the hell would you give a shit about me?! What the fuck are you even doing here?!"

"Mate, I was grieving" sighed Brax, his cheeks reddening a little out of guilt, "I was just lashing out… kicking out at anyone that didn't get out of the way fast enough. I wasn't in a good place… Kyle, you know I didn't mean that - you know that!"

Kyle snorted in disdain. He knew Brax had meant it alright. He'd never really seen him as a brother in the same way as he had Casey and Heath. As it turned out he'd been right not to. They really _weren't_ blood! Maybe somehow, subconsciously, Brax had actually sensed it?

"I just…" sighed Brax, "I was angry at myself… Case had just died and I… I guess I blamed myself." He rubbed the back of his neck a little anxiously. "If I'm honest, I still do… Case would still be here if it wasn't for me… and there's nothing I can do to change that. I just have to live with it…Like a lot of other things in my life… But, mate, I shouldn't have taken it out on you. You didn't deserve it and I never meant to hurt you."

"It doesn't matter" said Kyle, giving a defeated sort of shrug. It wasn't true. Brax would never understand how much those words had wounded him, but what was the point in dredging all that stuff up now? Not now that they knew that they weren't even related?! "You don't owe me anything" he added.

"Mate, it does matter" said Brax, "I've been doing a lot of thinking the last few weeks… And I think I owe you a hell of a lot."

Kyle gave a bitter little smirk. What was Brax even talking about?!

"You looked after Ric when I couldn't" he elaborated, his voice a little more emotional than usual, "You took care of her when she was pregnant, and you were there for her when I couldn't be. I mean, I don't know how she would have gotten through it without you… You know she loves you… So does Case."

He glanced sideways at Brax. He could see the man was sincere but he still found it hard to take. His tough 'big brother' had never been very forthcoming with compliments before. What had changed now? Was it because he was to be pitied? Was it because he felt sorry for him?

"I've said and done a lot of things over the years that I'm not proud of…" said Brax.

"Join the club" said Kyle, with a bitter little laugh. He didn't want to think about the things that _he_ wasn't proud of.

Brax gazed at him for a moment, seeming to read his mind, and then looked down at the floor. He hated to think of the things Kyle had been through. "Mate" he said quietly, "I'm… I'm so sorry…"

Kyle looked up, cringing at the fact that Brax already knew the sordid details of his childhood. Their eyes met for a moment but he had to look away. He felt ashamed. He couldn't stand to see the pity in the other man's eyes. To see that look that said he was something damaged and to be handled with kid gloves. It made his skin crawl. This was exactly what he hadn't wanted to happen!

"I'm so sorry all this shit happened to you" said Brax, "I wish you could have told me about it…"

Kyle scoffed at that.

As though he could ever have sat down with the boys and told them about being abused! About being raped… When?! At a barbecue? Or when they sat down together to watch the footie? Or on a night out maybe? Or perhaps over breakfast cereal in the morning?! When would have been a good time to bring it up?! And how would a conversation like that have gone anyway? " _By the way, boys, I spent most of my early childhood locked in a basement, and while you guys were learning how to surf, I was making porn."_ He could almost see the shocked and disgusted looks on their faces, mouths hanging open, with half-chewed cereal…

And what would have been the point?! To have them look at him like Brax was doing now? To have them pity him for being too weak to stop it? To stir up all sorts of painful questions that he still wasn't ready to deal with? To make them think that he was gay? No good would have come of it. None whatsoever!

It wasn't like they'd ever had a sharing and caring kind of relationship, especially in the early days. Especially after what he'd done to Casey.

Things might have changed now. They'd all matured a lot, but back then?! They might have even laughed at him!

"I wish you would have trusted me" said Brax, a look of genuine sorrow on his face.

"Yeah, because you've dealt with this whole thing sooo well!" replied Kyle in a sarcastic tone of voice, "You couldn't even call me when you found out about this… You sent Heath to do your dirty work instead…"

"Mate… I…" Brax began to answer, "It wasn't like that…"

"Why didn't you call me then?" asked Kyle, "Was I really worth so little to you?"

"It wasn't about you!" blurted Brax, "It was about me… okay?!"

Kyle gave a snort and shook his head in exasperation. How had his being abused as a child somehow become about Brax?! How selfish was this man?!

"About you?!" he sneered, "How is any of this about _you_?!"

Brax gave a heavy sigh and shook his head. He seemed to be fighting with himself as though he wanted to say something but he couldn't find the words. He began rubbing the back of his neck, something he always did when he was anxious.

"I um…" he said, staring at his feet as his whole face flushed red, "This whole thing… it uh… it brought some stuff up for me… some stuff I guess I've never really dealt with… It kind of messed me up a bit…"

"What are you talking about?" asked Kyle, his voice losing some of its defensiveness. Even through his anger, he could see that Brax was shaking. There was a vulnerability there that he'd never seen before. It kind of threw him a little.

Brax gave a tight little grimace, glancing up at him for a moment, before looking at his feet again. He was clearly finding this difficult. Even just maintaining eye contact seemed to be a challenge right now. Something Kyle was more than familiar with.

"I needed to get my head around some stuff" he admitted, his voice beginning to shake a little, "I… I needed to learn how to… to t-talk about something… something I've buried my whole life…"

Kyle couldn't help noticing that Brax's hands were shaking. The man must have noticed too, because he suddenly stuck them between his knees in an attempt to hide them. His whole body seemed tense.

"I kind of spun out for a few weeks…" said Brax, "Ric's been helping me…"

"I don't understand…?" Kyle started to say but Brax interrupted him.

"I was nine" he blurted out, his voice shaking badly, "D-dad was in prison… He did 2 years for GBH that time… Mum st-started seeing this creep… everyone called him Chook… He was a long-distance truck driver, I think… but I never found out his real name."

The words were coming out in short little bursts like each little admission was catching in his throat and causing him physical pain. Kyle couldn't help being shocked. The only other times he'd heard him talk like this was when Casey died, or when he'd admitted killing Johnny Barrett. Was Brax telling him what he thought he was telling him?!

"They were drunk all the time" continued Brax, swiping angrily at a tear that was rolling down his cheek, "They were always throwing these parties… Me and Heath were shut in the back bedroom most of the time… and… and we'd be there listening to all this screaming and shouting and loud music… stuff breaking… And Heath was so little… He was always crying… I used to put headphones on him to help keep him calm."

He stopped for a moment, clamping his hand around his fist, and grinding his teeth a little in anger. His eyes were still fixed on the floor but tears were now flowing freely.

"Anyway… this one night" he continued, forcing the words out through clenched teeth, "Things had gotten really wild, and I think Mum and Chook had had this big fight. I don't know… I just remember Mum was really out of it… more than usual… and I can remember her yelling at Chook that he'd have to sleep on the couch. That he wasn't welcome in her bed…"

Kyle swallowed thickly. He could see where this was headed and his stomach felt sick. How could something like this have happened to Brax?! The man was so self-assured and macho. How could he have been a victim just like him?! How hadn't he stopped it?!

"Chook… he… he came into our bedroom that night" stammered Brax, "He… He came in… and… and he… _made_ me…" His voice was tight and full of emotion. "He said if I didn't let him, he'd hurt Heath… That I had to be quiet."

"Oh God" groaned Kyle, "I… I'm sorry…" He wasn't shocked at the depravity of the man, his own childhood had taught him how cruel men could be, but he _was_ shocked that it had happened to Brax.

"Heath was so little!" he said with a little sob, "I couldn't let him hurt him… So, I did it… I _let_ him. I let him do that to me."

"Mate, you didn't have a choice" said Kyle, realising the truth in those words for the first time. Brax had had no more choice in what had happened to him than he had. How was a nine-year-old supposed to fight back?

"I just remember thinking I was going to die" he said, wiping at his tears with the heels of both shaking hands, "He was so heavy… and I… I couldn't breathe… and it… it hurt so much."

"I know" nodded Kyle, understanding all too well what that felt like, "I'm… I'm sorry…"

"And I just kept staring at Heath…" he said, "I bit through my lip trying to be quiet… I didn't want him to wake up… To see what was happening…"

"Oh God" groaned Kyle, "I'm so sorry, Brax."

"Don't be sorry for me" he said, suddenly looking up at him. He had an incredulous look on his face. "It wasn't as bad as what happened to you…"

"It's not a competition" said Kyle, Jamilla's words echoing in his ears, "That's not how it works."

"It… it only happened once…" stammered Brax, "Mum… She and Chook broke up the next day… I never… I never saw him again… Think he died in prison."

"It doesn't matter that it only happened once" said Kyle, "It happened… Once is too many times…"

"I know" said Brax, looking up at him with apologetic eyes, "That's why I can't get it out of my head… You… I mean… 7 years?! …Jesus, Kyle, how did you get through it? I mean… how…"

"Did you tell your mum?" asked Kyle, in a desperate attempt to avoid the question. _'How had he gotten through it?'_ …He didn't know. He just had. "Is that why they broke up?" he asked.

Brax snorted and gave an angry little laugh. "Cheryl isn't exactly the kind of mum you go to for help" he replied sadly, "She only broke up with him because she found out he was stealing from her…"

"So, she didn't even realise?" frowned Kyle, "I mean… that… that he hurt you?"

He shook his head. "She was pretty messed up back then… The booze was pretty much all that mattered. Any money that came into the house went on smokes and goon… I don't even know if she knew we were there some of the time… or if she cared. I hid in my room for a couple of days, hid my underwear… She didn't even notice that I skipped school for a whole week."

Kyle nodded. He'd always known the Braxtons had had a tough time of it, but he hadn't quite realised how tough. "You never told anyone?" he asked, "I mean… a teacher… or a friend? …Or Heath?"

Brax shook his head. "I was ashamed" he said, "Chook… He… He told me I'd been asking for it, walking around in my underwear, flirting with him… I didn't know what flirting was but I was scared that maybe I had. That maybe it was my fault… And he said that dad would be angry with me if he found out… and that I'd get a whipping… I was too scared."

Kyle gave a little grimace. It was so cliché it was almost funny. Like child abuse 101. He'd probably been carrying that guilt around his whole life.

"I never told anyone until a few weeks ago" sighed Brax, "Just tried to forget it… Pretend it never happened…But it's always there..."

Kyle nodded. He understood that all too well. It was like a cancer festering in the back of your mind, tainting everything. "But you told Ric?" he asked, "I mean… she knows now?"

"Yeah…" he responded, his face reddening in shame, "I… I kind of fell to pieces…after I found out about you… kind of lost it for a while…"

"But you're okay now?" Kyle asked, wondering why it was only him that didn't seem to be able to get over it.

"No" he answered honestly, with a bitter little laugh, "But I'm trying…"

Kyle couldn't help rolling his eyes. So, that was it! He'd come to show him how it was done? How easy it was to come clean and then just move on with your life? "Why… why are you telling me this?" he asked, "I mean… are we supposed to bond over this? Like… like what? Like child abuse buddies or something?"

"I don't know" admitted Brax, wiping at his eyes again, "I guess… I just… I needed to talk to someone who would understand… and I thought maybe it'd help you too… Ric thought it might help you to know you're not the only one… and not just some other patient in this place… Someone you actually know."

Kyle gave another little laugh. He couldn't help it. As though it was that simple.

"Do you… do you want to talk about it?" asked Brax, "About what happened to you?"

"No" said Kyle, shaking his head and looking down at the floor, "Not right now."

He hated to admit that he actually did feel a little better. Knowing that Brax had been abused too shouldn't have made any difference, but in some strange way, it did. He'd always felt that what happened to him had been an indicator of some kind of weakness on his part. A basic character flaw. That the Hames' had simply seen that in him, the part of him that screamed 'victim', and then used it to their advantage. He'd believed the horrible things they'd told him. That on some level he'd invited the things that had been done to him and that he'd deserved them. Behaved in a way that said he wanted it. That he'd _'let'_ it happen. And he'd genuinely believed that someone like Brax wouldn't have let it happen to them. That the Braxton boys would have been stronger and more able to say 'no', and that he wasn't worthy of being a Braxton because he hadn't been able to. Now that he knew the truth, he couldn't help feeling relieved… but that made him feel guilty. What kind of person would react that way?!

"Okay" sighed Brax, noticing the reddening of his brother's cheeks. He wasn't going to push him. They sat saying nothing for a moment or two before Kyle broke the silence.

"You know most of it anyway…" he muttered quietly, "The whole fucking world does…" He glanced at the door and narrowed his eyes. "They all know… the other patients… I'm the Hames' case victim… It's like I'm the poster boy for child sexual abuse." He glanced at Brax before looking away again, frustration apparent on his face. "How pathetic is that?!"

"Come on, mate, it's not like that" said Brax.

"How would you like everyone to know?" sneered Kyle, "For everyone to know what that sicko did to you? People talking about you behind your back?"

Brax didn't know what to say. He knew that he would hate it too. That having people know something so deeply personal, so painful, would be unbearable for him. Even telling Kyle today had been incredibly difficult, so it must have been a hundred times worse for Kyle!

"I'm just so tired" groaned Kyle, "I want it all to go away …I want to close my eyes and go to sleep and not have nightmares about this stuff. I don't want to dream at all… I wish I could just forget that any of this stuff happened and that I could go back to being Kyle Braxton, 'small town restaurant owner'. I want boring."

"I know, mate" sighed Brax, "I know…"

"I don't know the last time I slept through the night" he admitted, "I can't even turn off the light in my room. Like a little kid, Brax… I can't…" He shook his head. "I see their faces, those men… I see them when I close my eyes…sometimes I even feel them… And I see Jessica and Simon. They're always there… And I'm remembering all this stuff from when they took me, the dark and how scared I was… And now I have to meet my real family. I mean, what are they gonna think of me? Their son, the 'mental patient rape victim'?"

"Mate, they won't think that!" argued Brax.

Kyle snorted. Of course, they would!

"They're just gonna want to see you" said Brax, "You're their kid and they thought you were dead… Can you imagine how happy they're going to be to have you back?!"

"Maybe" he replied, "I just..."

"Kyle, come on… how would you feel if you lost Noah?" asked Brax, "Do you think you'd care about any of this stuff… Do you think anything he could ever do would make you not love him?"

He shook his head. As a father himself, he understood how his parents must be feeling, at least on some level, but the disgust he felt for himself was just too strong. It was hard to separate the two things. He knew it was irrational but he couldn't help it.

"They replaced me" he said, feeling childish for even uttering the words, but it was something that had been playing on his mind since he'd found out about the Innocentis, "They just… they had more kids after I was gone. They don't need me… and all this _drama_." He gave a sad shrug. "They're better off without me."

"They didn't 'replace' you" frowned Brax, "Is that what Heath and Bianca are doing? Replacing Rocco?"

"No… but…" he began to say.

"Kyle, you're being ridiculous!" scolded Brax, "Your parents need to see you… So does Tam, and Heath… and the Summers… You can't keep shutting everyone out!"

"Says the guy who refused all visitors" scoffed Kyle.

"Yeah well" smirked Brax, "I never said I was smart."

Kyle gave a half-hearted little smile and then looked at the floor. He knew Brax was right but the thought of having to talk to all those people just felt overwhelming right now. As much as he hated this place and all the 'group sessions', it was much easier to hide here than face the world outside. In here, he could protect himself. In here, he didn't have to be okay. "I just…" he sighed, "I don't think I'm strong enough for this..."

"Mate" said Brax, leaning forward and taking hold of Kyle's shoulder, "…You're stronger than anyone else I know." He gave him a sad little half smile when Kyle finally met his gaze. "You're gonna get through this… You are."

Kyle smirked sarcastically at that. He felt anything but strong.

Suddenly the door opened and the same nurse that had brought Brax in before was standing there. There was a dark-haired woman standing behind her. The woman, dressed in a white shirt and dark pants, was just staring into the room with a shocked look on her face. Her mouth was almost gaping open.

"Kyle?" said the nurse, "There's a police officer here to see you? She says she needs to ask you some questions?"

The two men just stared, frozen stock still, like a couple of rabbits caught in the headlights.

After a moment, Brax stood up, slowly holding his hands up in front of him, as though he expected a SWAT team to suddenly descend from the ceiling and flatten him to the floor. He looked defeated, like he'd been expecting this to happen.

The nurse glanced back and forth between the cop and the man now on his feet, a perplexed look on her face. "Is… is everything okay?" she asked.

"Kat?!" gasped Kyle, getting to his feet and finally finding his voice, "W-what are you doing here?!"

* * *

 **Dun dun dun... Please review?**


	39. Chapter 39

**Okaaaaaayyy…. So, massive apologies for the delay in getting this chapter up. I have had an incredibly busy time lately, with a lot of personal stuff going on (as well as being sick), so I just haven't had time to do any writing. I haven't abandoned this story though, I promise. It'll just take a while to finish.**

 **And thanks again to my lovely reviewers: Zoe-eoZ, FrankElza, Pembie, BraxtonBoyzz123, and Braxton54.**

 **I really hope you like this chapter. I put a lot of work into it.**

* * *

 **Chapter 38**

"Kat, please don't do this?!" pleaded Kyle, as he followed his brother through the hallway towards the front reception, "Please?!"

Brax had his head down and his hands clasped in front of him. Kat hadn't brought handcuffs but something about being caught had him adopting the 'prisoner' pose. He hadn't even bothered to really argue with Kat when she'd said that he had to hand himself in. He'd simply nodded his head in defeat and followed her when she'd asked him to.

"Brax?!" said Kyle, grabbing him by the arm and giving him a shake "Aren't you even going to fight this?! I mean, you could still run!"

He didn't reply. He just jerked his arm away.

"No, he can't" said Kat, turning to Kyle with apologetic eyes, "How far do you think he'd get once they know he's alive? He was only able to hide before because he's officially dead. Once I call this in, there'd be roadblocks, searches, the full thing!" She gave a sad sort of sigh. "I can't pretend I didn't see you, Brax, you know that!"

Brax just nodded.

"Why not?!" pleaded Kyle, "I mean, Kat, you're not even a cop anymore! What does it matter to you?! It's not your job to stop him!"

"I know that" she sighed, "I know I'm not a cop… which is why I'm asking Brax to come with me voluntarily… I just don't want anyone getting hurt… If he hands himself in, he might…"

"You'd really do this?!" he huffed angrily, "After all that bullshit about how sorry you were?! You ruin my life and now you're gonna take away one of the only people who cares about me?!"

"It's because I care about you that I'm doing this!" she snapped.

"You're doing this for _me_?!" he scoffed, "How the hell do you work that out?! Cos you know what, I can think of better ways for you to repay me!"

"I don't want you to end up in prison" she bit back at him, "You don't deserve that after everything you've been through… and if Brax really cares about you, he'll take that into consideration… C'mon , Kyle, think logically… You _know_ this is what has to happen. Brax _has_ to hand himself in, for his sake, for Ricky and Casey's sake, and for you and Heath! Do you really wanna spend the first couple of years of Noah's life in prison?!"

"Come on, Kat?!" he pleaded again, "That's bullshit! Can't you just keep your nose out of this?! For once in your life, just mind your own business?!"

"No, Kyle... she's right" said Brax, suddenly interrupting them, and putting his hand on Kyle's shoulder. He looked up at him with eyes that said ' _I need you to be strong'_. "She's right" he repeated, "If they find out you knew I was alive, they might think you were hiding me, and you could go down for aiding and abetting… I can't do that to you, or anyone I care about. I need to come clean."

"Brax, please don't do this?!" he pleaded, his voice a little shaky with emotion. How was he meant to watch his 'brother' go to prison again?! Gunno and his mates were still there and they'd be waiting. Brax was probably going to die in there!

"I have to, mate" sighed Brax, "I won't put anyone else at risk."

"But why did you even come to see me?!" he asked, his voice rising, "You're throwing your life away because of me?! I didn't ask you to do this!"

"I needed to see you" said Brax, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, "I didn't think I'd get caught, but it was a risk I was willing to take."

"Fuck you, Brax" he began to cry, "How am I meant to deal with this?!"

"Mate, it's done" he said, with a sad little nod. He leaned his forehead against Kyle's and gripped his hand around the back of his neck. He could feel Kyle shaking as he held him. "I know I'm no good at all that… I dunno, touchy feely stuff…" he said with an embarrassed little chuckle, "…but mate, don't ever think I don't care about you."

"Brax, don't…" whined Kyle, a horrible sinking feeling that this was Brax saying goodbye for the last time. An image of a coffin flashed through his mind. "Please don't do this! I can't lose you again!"

"I have to" said Brax, "I don't have a choice... But... mate, listen... I need you to get better... I need you to get out of this place and start living your life again. Be Tamara's husband. Be Noah's dad. Be that smalltown restaurant owner you were talking about. Be as boring as you want to be!"

Kyle gave a sad little laugh at that. Boring sounded amazing right now.

"Just... just don't let those bastards win!" he continued, "I _need_ you to not let them win. Those pedo pieces of shit don't get to ruin your life. They don't get to take everything you've worked for from you." He gave Kyle a little shake. "So, you promise me! You promise me you're gonna fight?!"

"I don't think I'm strong enough" said Kyle, shaking his head, "I'm not..."

"Yes, you are!" said Brax, "You are!"

"I'll try" said Kyle, pulling away from Brax to wipe the tears from his eyes. He glanced in a shamefaced sort of way at Kat and the security guard. They'd obviously been putting on quite a show!

"Brax, we um... we have to go" said Kat, looking a little embarrassed to have to interrupt such a touching brotherly moment.

"Can't you just give us a minute?!" snarled Kyle.

"It's okay" said Brax, throwing Kat a look that said 'back off!'

She held her hands up in a conciliatory way and stood against the wall. Her patience was obviously wearing thin though.

Brax turned to look at Kyle again and a look of embarrassment crossed his face. "I just…" he said, before leaning in and whispering in his ear, "I... I love you, mate... Don't forget that."

It was a fast and very mumbled sentiment, and then Brax had turned and was motioning for Kat to take him outside. Kyle just stood there, looking a little shell-shocked. Had Brax just said 'I love you'? Really?!

Kat threw Kyle an apologetic look, for what it was worth, before taking hold of Brax's arm (old habits die hard). They were past the security barrier and Kyle couldn't go any further without the alarms going off. His wristband saw to that.

"I don't have to tell them that Ricky and Casey were with him" she offered, looking back and forth between the two men, "I'll tell them she's overseas or something?"

"You'd do that?!" asked Brax, turning towards her with a look of surprise on his face, "Why?!"

"I don't want Ricky and Casey dragged into this anymore than you do" she answered, with a shrug, "Your little boy needs his mum."

"He needs his dad too" growled Kyle. There was pure hatred in his eyes as he glared at her. He was never going to forgive her for this. "Casey needs Brax too, but I guess you don't care about that?!"

"His dad should have thought about that before he escaped a prison transport and then faked his own death" she retorted, as she nodded to a security guard to open the security door. "I'll keep you informed" she said, as she started to move Brax through the doorway, "Once he's been charged."

He stared at her as she manhandled his 'brother' and all but shoved him through the door. Was this all just an ego trip for her, he wondered?! Was that what this was about?! Did she miss being a cop so much that she was willing to throw someone under the bus just to feel powerful again for a moment?! Or did she think this was going to get her her job back somehow? Was that it?! Did she think if she delivered Daryl Braxton on a platter then she'd get to re-join the club?

He was seething!

"Hey, Kat?!" he called out as she was halfway out the door, "You know how the cops don't want you anymore… and you work for me at the gym even though I didn't hire you?"

She nodded, a look of unease on her face. She obviously knew what was coming.

"Yeah, well, you're fired" he said, as he turned on his heel and stalked off down the hallway, "Hope your principles keep you warm at night when you can't pay your rent!"

* * *

Anna blew her nose on one of the diner's napkins and glanced in embarrassment at the couple on the other side of the table. She nervously wrung the paper in her hands and checked to see if any of the other diners were watching. They weren't.

"Sorry about this" she said, wiping with one hand at her eyes to remove any wandering mascara, "I'm not normally like this."

"That's okay" said Jenny, with a sympathetic little smile.

Anna smiled back but it didn't reach her eyes. She didn't like crying in public.

In truth, Anna had stopped crying over Noah a long time ago, becoming painfully aware that the rest of society expected her to just 'move on'. People lost patience eventually, you weren't allowed to mourn forever, and no one wanted to hear about the child that had been lost. _'Think of the two who are still here'_ they would tell her, _'Focus on them… You'll see. With time things will get better._ '

What was it that everyone said? ' _Time heals all wounds'_? Well, that just wasn't true.

Oh, she'd stopped crying alright, but a sad emptiness had settled in her heart instead. She'd gone through the last 20 years in what felt like a daze, just going through the motions and playing the part of a happy Italian Mamma. Almost a caricature of her own mother, and a poor one at that.

She'd even had two more children in the hope that it might help them to heal, or maybe reignite things between herself and Marco… but it hadn't. If anything, it had made things worse. They'd disagreed on every aspect of how to raise the girls. Anna had become so fiercely over-protective that even a grazed knee was cause for major alarm. Neither of them were ever allowed out of her sight, or allowed to get dirty, or even run around like other kids did. Whereas Marco thought that they should make every moment count, in a sort of irrational belief that any moment might be the last time they got to spend together. He seemed as though he was mentally preparing himself to say goodbye every time he looked their way. The result was two little girls with all sorts of anxiety problems and a hell of a lot of anger.

And then there was Mia and Nico. Anna was filled with guilt when she thought about them. What must life have been like for them, living in the shadow of their parent's grief, and watching the 'mamma' and 'papà' they'd known from before turn into these hollowed out husks? Had they felt her withdrawal? The closing of her heart? She hoped not, but it wasn't something she could help. A part of her had simply died that day on the beach. She went through the motions as best she could, and tried to be a good mum, but she was never fully 'there'. Nico had said as much.

As for her relationship with her husband. It was in tatters. She and Marco were more like brother and sister now, or friendly and polite housemates. They still lived together, although they slept in separate bedrooms, they ate together with the kids that still lived at home, they socialised together as a couple, and they even still worked together in the family restaurant… but they hadn't slept together or even kissed in years. They didn't even really talk, except to exchange pleasantries. The days of arguing were long gone. What existed now was polite tolerance.

But when they went out with their friends, they played their parts with practiced ease. Even now, Marco had his arm around her shoulder, and was putting on a very good show of being the ever-supportive husband.

Of course, it wasn't that he wasn't 'supportive'. In fact, that was what got to her more than anything. In all the years that had passed, never once had he actually blamed her for what had happened. He'd never said the words 'It was your fault'… But she needed him to! She desperately needed him to acknowledge what she'd done. To acknowledge the guilt that was hers to carry. She needed him to scream in her face and get angry. To yell at her and tell her that she'd allowed their little boy to 'die'. That she was the one who should have been watching him, the one to make him come out of the sea when she called! That she shouldn't have taken no for an answer! She needed him to show her that he was as hurt and as angry as she was. That he cared! But he refused to say it. Even when she'd challenged him on it. Even when she'd goaded him. He wouldn't admit that he hated her for losing Noah.

And he did. He hated her, at least on some level… She could see it in his eyes every time she looked at him. She'd catch him staring at her in the restaurant kitchen and he'd pause for a moment, eyes full of resentment, before he looked away again. But she'd see it. Every time. He'd open his mouth to say something and then close it again, a blank expression creeping back across his face. Those two words _'culpa tua'_ permanently locked behind his lips. Where was the passionate, 'never go to bed angry', 'always speaks his mind' red-blooded Italian she'd fallen in love with?! This red-faced, 'drinks too much when no-one's looking', shut-down zombie certainly wasn't him!

But they were never going to leave each other. They were holding it together 'for the kids' and the twisted belief that they deserved to be unhappy. Almost a punishment for what had happened.

She looked around the diner and saw a young family on the other side of the room. They looked happy and care-free as they drank their coffees and fed their little one a yoghurt. Then she looked back at Jenny and David, these lovely people who had raised her son. They seemed so put together and yet they'd obviously had their own issues if they'd had to foster instead of having a child of their own. Maybe infertility? Maybe a string or miscarriages? Maybe they'd lost a child too? No-one could ever tell, she thought to herself, what pain lurked behind a false smile.

"Kyle was very attached to that monkey" said David, seeing that Anna seemed to have stopped crying, "He dragged him everywhere, slept with him for years…"

"Where is he now?" asked Anna, the photo of Kyle hugging the grey monkey was still in front of her. "He keep the toy?"

"No" said Jenny, "We kept him when Kyle moved out. He's in a box with some of Kyle's things."

Marco nodded. He couldn't imagine a grown man having a toy like that. The thought was bittersweet though. He was pleased that Kyle was obviously 'man enough' not to need childish toys around him, but saddened to think of him as an adult man. In his mind, the boy was still only 3 years old.

Anna looked at the photo again and gave a sad little half-smile. "Noah…" she said, "He always look after Nico… He always protects. Every photo we have, he is in front. His arm around Nico… not the other way around. He was…"

"He was a good boy" said Marco, glancing down at the child in the picture again, "Kind, goodhearted…"

"He still is" said Jenny, with a sad little smile, "Kyle's got such a big heart… He cares more about other people than he does about himself…"

"It can be his downfall sometimes" said David, "He acts first and thinks second. If he thinks someone needs help, he just jumps in headfirst…"

"Detective Drazic said he has a criminal record?" asked Marco, a frown appearing, "A robbery, when he was 18… although he would only have been 15 in truth so they are trying to get it… how you say 'removed'?"

"Expunged" nodded David, "He was charged with assault but he got a suspended sentence. Only served a few months."

"Assault?!" exclaimed Anna, "He hurted someone?!"

"He did" sighed David, "He didn't mean to, but he did… Like I said, 'act first, think second'… The man he assaulted was a security guard and Kyle saw him aiming a loaded gun at Danny Braxton. I mean the poor kid thought Danny was his biological father." He rolled his eyes and glanced at Jenny. They both remembered how angry they'd been. "Danny was a bastard! I mean, he didn't care about anyone, least of all Kyle! He just used him… _Used_ him and spat him out… Made him take the fall a few times."

"He manipulated him" explained Jenny, "He saw how fragile Kyle was… How lost… but instead of helping him, he just exploited him…" She shook her head angrily. "I'll never forgive that man. I really hope he burns in hell."

Anna nodded her understanding but was also surprised by the depth of feeling this woman was displaying. Kyle obviously wasn't just a 'foster son' to them. He'd won a permanent place in their hearts. She wasn't sure if she was happy about that, or more than a little jealous.

"We couldn't get through to Kyle at all" sighed David, "That man had him brainwashed and the boy just thought we were being possessive and not letting him see his father… Out of spite… Like we just resented Danny because he was his real dad and all we were was foster parents."

"Danny told him we were only in it for the money" said Jenny, a look of hurt flashing across her face, "He repeated that to us…Came right out and said it. That we'd have to get a new foster child to keep the government cheques rolling in."

"That must have hurt?" said Marco. He could see the pain in both the Summers' eyes.

David nodded. "He was just a child" he sighed, "And a damaged one at that. We don't blame him.

"All he wanted was to impress that man" huffed Jenny, "And he ended up in prison because of it!"

"But how?" asked Marco, a look of disappointment on his face, "He… he hurt someone to… to impress this 'Danny'?!"

David blew out a big breath. This was obviously going to take some explaining!

"Kyle thought his 'father' was going to be shot" he explained, "The security guard was shouting at Danny to put the gun down, Danny had a hostage, and he was threatening to shoot the woman if the guard didn't put his gun down first… So, Kyle… He hit the security guard with a flashlight… one of those clunky metal ones… The man had a fractured skull because of it."

"But if he hadn't done that" argued Jenny, "I think people would have died that day. And not just Danny… I think a lot of people would have been shot."

"But… Detective Drazic said he steal a car?" said Anna. She seemed quite shocked.

Jenny grimaced a little and glanced at David. What were they supposed to say? Kyle had been no angel, that was for sure.

"He did" sighed David, "Like I said, he got mixed up with a very bad man who led him down the wrong path… but he's turned himself around and made something of himself… I'm sure Drazic told you about his businesses? He runs a local restaurant and a gym too."

Marco nodded and gave a little smile.

"So, he's done okay" said Jenny, seeking to reassure the other couple, "Despite everything, Kyle made a good life for himself… He's a good boy… and like you said, he has a kind heart."

"People around here think very highly of him" said David, "He's got a lot of friends."

"And… the Braxtons?" frowned Anna, "These other 'brothers' he has? The sons of that man… That 'Danny'?"

"We've met Heath…" answered Jenny, a smile creeping in, "He seems like a good person despite who his dad was, and a _very_ good brother to Kyle. He's been nothing but supportive through this whole thing… even since he found out… Well, that they're not really related."

"Yeah, he moved back from the city with his wife and kids to help out" smiled David, "His wife's a school principal… And he has his own business… but the bloke's been working all hours to keep things afloat for Kyle… Managing the restaurant for him… y'know while he's… while he's ' _away_ '."

"Yes, the detective told us that too" nodded Marco, "But he also say that he has two dead brothers… both involved in crime?"

"He told you that?" asked David, a look of annoyance crossing his features. Why was Detective Drazic poisoning Kyle's birth family against him?! Didn't he think Kyle had enough to deal with?!

"Yes" nodded Marco, "He was worried we would see it on internet… He didn't want there to be any surprises…"

"And in case the newspapers print anything" said Anna, "We already read some things in the news…"

"I guess that makes sense" sighed Jenny, "but I wouldn't believe everything you read… It's more complicated than that."

Anna nodded in a way that said she'd be looking for a full explanation at another stage. Now that she'd possibly got her Noah back, her protective instincts were kicking into gear. Maybe these Braxtons needed to back off?

"Brax and Casey weren't bad people" said David. At least, that's what he'd come to understand.

Marco decided to change the subject and let his eyes wander to the stack of photos sitting in front of Jenny on the table. "Are they photos of… of Kyle?" he asked, nodding at them, "Can we see?"

"Of course!" exclaimed Jenny as she bundled them up and handed them across the table with an excited grin. She loved those photos. They showed the steady progress their beloved little boy had made. The first photo, with the grey monkey, had shown a sad and frightened child with empty eyes. By the final photo, taken just a few months before Kyle had walked out of their lives, there was a much more confident young man. Certainly, not healed completely, but there had been a fire in his eyes, a look of determination, and he'd even been smiling. She'd cherished those photos, just like she'd preserved all his things in case he ever wanted them back. She was wishing now that she'd brought 'Nico the Monkey' with her on this trip.

Anna pulled out one of the photos from Jenny's stack and glanced over at Jenny, a pained expression on her face. The photo showed a blank-faced Kyle sitting at a table with a large Birthday cake in front of him. He was surrounded by other children who were grinning happily into the camera but he looked completely dead behind the eyes. The cake said 'Happy 14th Birthday, Kyle!' but he looked every inch the 11 year old child he really was.

"He looks so…" Marco began, touching the edge of the photo in a way that said he thought it might disintegrate if he handled it too roughly. He didn't seem to have a word to finish that sentence but it obviously wouldn't have been anything good.

"He was very shut down" supplied Jenny, "He wasn't really talking at that stage… He didn't talk at all for about the first month… and then it was only one word answers. I don't think we were having proper conversations for about a year… maybe more?"

"He's still not a big talker" sighed David.

"Noah talked a lot" said Marco, frowning down at the table, "He speak Italian and English… Both languages very well. He was very smart… But he always talk more than Nico, always, how you say, 'bubbling'?

"Babbling" corrected Jenny.

"Yes, babbling…" repeated Marco, "He would sit in the kitchen and talk to all the chefs… He talked all the time…Before he was… before _they_ …"

"He was so beautiful baby" sighed Anna, as she ran her fingers over the boy's cheek in the photo, "Big brown eyes… always with a smile…"

"I remember he laughed a lot" said Marco, glancing at Anna with a little smirk, "He like to play games… Silly things babies do…"

She nodded and began to smile as their eyes met. She obviously knew what he was referring to.

"Le mutande!" he said, shaking his head in wonder and grinning, "Ti ricordi?!"

"O dio!" she replied, covering her mouth as she began to laugh too. She glanced across at the Summers who were laughing softly despite not understanding what the joke was. "He… He used to…" giggled Anna, tears appearing in her eyes, "He used to put… he put his… his underpants on our heads…"

She mimed it out with her hands, making circles around her eyes for where the leg holes were.

"And then he laugh!" giggled Marco, "He would laugh and laugh…"

"He had the best laugh" smiled Anna, tears now streaming down her face, "We all laugh then, Mia, Nico, all of us!"

"I don't know why he think this so funny?!" he chuckled, "But for him, it was best joke ever! He laugh and laugh!"

"And he do it every night" giggled Anna, "Every night the same, but we laugh every time… So simple."

"I thought he would be comedian" laughed Marco, "Or maybe actor? He always tried to be funny!"

Anna continued to smile as she peered down at the photos in front of her but her smile began to fade. The boy in the photos didn't look like he'd _ever_ laughed at anything. She wondered where that beautiful smiling baby had gone to?

"I remember him that way" sighed Marco, as he watched Anna flip through the photos, his laughter slowly fading too, "This boy… This 'Kyle'… They… they break him."

"They did" agreed David, "But we put him back together as best we could… and Tamara and the baby have been doing that too. You should see him with that baby… Now, _that's_ a beautiful smile!"

"You have a photo?" asked Anna, a hopeful tone to her voice.

Jenny flat out grinned at that and dove into her handbag to get her phone. "Just a sec, hang on!"

"She has hundreds of photos on that thing" said David, "Never done taking snaps."

"Here!" smiled Jenny, as she excitedly scrolled to a photo of Kyle, Tamara, and the baby, "Look how happy he is!"

Anna and Marco leaned in to see the photo and began to smile again. The photo showed a man, not unlike their other son Nico, but different in many ways. The biggest thing that stood out though, was just how bright and white Kyle's smile was, and the fact that his eyes were lit up with pure joy. This was a far cry from the photos of Kyle as a child. He was grinning from ear to ear, his arm around Tamara's shoulder in a very protective way, and his hand on his baby's tummy. Anyone looking at this photo would never have known that the man in the photo had such a tortured past. It soothed the heart to see.

"See?!" said Jenny, flicking to an equally happy family scene, and then a photo of just Kyle and the baby in a relaxed pose on the sofa. "He's so happy" she said, "That girl, and that baby, are just what he needed."

"Then why is he in that institution?" asked Marco, "If he's happy in his life? Why is he locked up?"

Jenny winced at the choice of words. She was choosing not to think of it as an 'institution' and she would never have used the words 'locked up'.

"He just needs to work through some things" said David, "This whole thing with his… his identity has knocked him for six… He isn't dealing with it very well… Or the fact that everyone knows what happened to him. I guess he thought he could bury it and pretend it never happened."

"He's just there for a little while so he can get his head sorted" said Jenny, "He'll be home soon and then we can get back to normal…"

"But Detective Drazic says there will be a trial in 2 months" said Marco, "And Kyle will have to… speak there?"

"Yes, he'll have to give evidence" nodded David, "Testify".

"And how do you think he will… cope?" asked Marco. He couldn't imagine a criminal trial would be good for someone as fragile as Kyle.

"Well, maybe that's where you come in?" said Jenny, as she reached for Anna's hand and threw Marco a hopeful little smile, "Help him heal? Help him through the next few months? He's going to need all the support he can get."

"I think we all need to let him know that we're there for him" said David, "A united front."

"We would like that" smiled Anna, a new wave of tears threatening to crash. She was amazed and touched by the kindness and generosity of these people. To think that the Hames and the Summers walked the same earth and breathed the same air. How had Kyle been so cursed and yet so lucky in his life? To see both ends of the spectrum?

"Do you think he let us see him?" asked Marco, "In that _place_?"

"We can try" said Jenny, turning to look at David with a much brighter smile, "He can't say no forever!"

* * *

Phoebe sat in her car in the car park and narrowed her eyes when she saw two figures emerge from the building and walk towards a parked car. Her mouth fell open and she brought her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun.

Her first thought was that her eyes were playing tricks on her. I mean, surely, that couldn't be who she thought it was?! And if it was, why on earth were those two particular individuals together?!

She watched as they got into the red car and sat for a moment side by side but not talking. After a moment or two more, the car was put in motion and reversed out of the parking spot. She hid her face with her hands as the car drove past her, but she managed to get a closer look at the occupants. It was definitely him!

Brax Braxton had just been driven out of the car park of The Winchester Institute, where Kyle was currently residing, and he was riding in Kat Chapman's car!

What the freaking hell was going on?!

She'd followed Ash's car here, with the intention of asking him for money. She was out of cash, and while her dad had said she could use his credit card for accommodation and to pay for flights, she didn't have the actual physical card, so she couldn't pay for food or drinks when she was out and about. She wanted Ash to pay her back for a few things that she'd paid for during their brief relationship – like the concert tickets she'd bought last June, and the fancy dinner she'd treated them to a couple of weeks before they broke up. She also thought he should give her back some of the rent since she'd moved out before the month was up. Given that he'd cheated on her, it seemed only fair.

But here she was, sitting in a car park, thanks to a slow-changing set of traffic lights that had caused her to be late. By the time she'd made it to the car park, Ash had been nowhere in sight, so she'd decided to wait for him to come back out.

After all, she'd had a few phone calls to make.

Part of her had toyed with the idea of going in to visit Kyle, but she'd decided against it. After all, it wasn't like he wanted to see her. He'd made that pretty clear! She did wonder what she'd find if she did though. Would he be sitting in a chair, all ' _One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest'_ , head slumped to one side and drooling? Would they have fried his brain? Would it be kinder for her to sneak in there and put a pillow over his face?

Her face flushed red in shame when she realised what she'd been thinking. ' _When did you become such a bitch?'_ she asked herself. She genuinely didn't know.

She'd just gotten off the phone with her father when she saw the door to the clinic open and a man in Ash's baseball cap appear. She got ready to open her door and jump out, when she realised that it wasn't Ash.

As the man turned to face her, she realised who it was, and the cogs in her brain began to turn at breakneck speed. Life was difficult at the moment, thanks to all that stuff with the police and the upcoming court appearance. Maybe she had a way out now? Maybe she could use what she knew to her advantage?

She hesitated for a moment, holding her phone in her hand, and glancing over at the doorway to Kyle's clinic. In her heart, she knew that what she was doing was wrong, and that she'd probably regret it, but _'in for a penny, in for a pound'_ as her father always used to say. She'd already burnt her bridges with pretty much everyone else around here, so what difference would it really make now? If this meant she could go home and be spoilt by her dad, then why shouldn't she do it?! No-one else wanted her around! _'Might as well be hanged as a lion, as a lamb'_ she thought. Another one of her father's sayings. The apple obviously hadn't fallen too far from the tree.

She smiled as she pressed 'call'. It rang three times before it was answered. "Yes, hello. This is Phoebe Nicholson… I need to speak to Sgt McCarthy. It's urgent!"


End file.
